


Self Preservation

by Flameroyalty



Series: Self Preservation [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anti-Android Language (Detroit: Become Human), Begging, Christmas, Collars, Crime Fighting, Cunnilingus, Deception, Domestic, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gavin isn't straight but he's a straight up plot device, Gift Giving, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Insecurity, Its a crime story theres going to be crime, Light Dom/sub, Love Confessions, Murder, Murder Mystery, Older Brother!Connor, Organized Crime, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Poison, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post Revolution, RK900 is called Nines, Reader-Insert, Restraints, Reunions, Side plot: gavin has a crush on you and nines, Slow Burn, Vaginal Fingering, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Planning, Weddings, dad! hank, detective!reader, took us 24 chapters but we made it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-03-17 14:50:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 53,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18967444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flameroyalty/pseuds/Flameroyalty
Summary: Self Preservation:The protection of oneself from harm or death, especially regarded as a basic instinct of human life. The first law of nature. Pain and fear integral as motivators to withdraw or seek safety from damaging or dangerous situations, and to avoid similar situations in the future.





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is mostly done and has taken me over **Four Months** to write but I'm posting the first two chapters to celebrate the one year anniversary of the game. It'll also keep me from scrapping the whole thing in the end. I've done so much research for this thing and cried twice writing it, I have to post it.

    You’d never known your type before. You obviously had one, but you’d never put much thought into it. You liked what you liked. None of your exes really seemed to share any characteristics, and you didn’t count celebrity crushes. What was the big deal of having one anyway?

    “Good morning Detective [Y/L/N], during my research, I found evidence you might find useful in your own investigation.”

    Okay, so maybe your type was definitely; tall, bright eyed, dark haired, scarily intelligent, and has an extensive library of skills that could kill you within seconds.

    “Oh. Thank you?” You cautiously take the folder being handed to you. You were pretty sure this was the first time he’s acknowledged you directly since you got here. Probably why you’re only now making this connection, and are suddenly very overwhelmed at him looking down at you.

    “No need for thanks. I am simply working to increase the department’s overall efficiency. Have a good day Detective.”

     You knew Nines. He'd been here longer than you'd been. He used to be partnered with Gavin Reed but they couldn't work together to save their lives. He did work great with Connor though, so Hank got both of them. It didn’t take long for Hank to warm up to him just like he had with Connor, practically adopting the machine within a few weeks. 

     He was an amazing piece of technology. He was ridiculously fast and observant. He could solve cases before you even finished reading the files. You'd been able to sit in on some of his interrogations. Any stranger would think his programming and style was just a replica of Connor's but they would be wrong. He didn't have any of the newfound empathy Connor had. He was unmercifully skilled at coaxing the words he wanted out of suspects. 

    His social programming needed work but you've overheard some killer jokes come out of his mouth in passing. Connor was helping as much as he could, given he was still learning himself. You two also seemed to share a mutual disinterest in Reed. Nines was talented, intelligent, funny, and made you flustered every time he acknowledged your existence.

     You, on the other hand, weren’t exactly one for self-preservation. Becoming a detective proved that a long time ago. You had your priorities set and when it came down to either you or your partner being shot, you were the one in the hospital every time. You had a nasty habit of picking fights with people you knew you shouldn’t. The nickname Death Wish only recently died out with the transfer to the DPD. Though the whole office did have a bet on what smartass line will finally get you killed.  

    Watching RK900 walk back to his desk, you sense your mischievous ways settling back into your bones. It practically courses through your veins. It's been awhile since you felt the need for someone's attention. It was going to be one hell of a challenge but that's half the fun. Was it going to be worth it to try to push the department's resident killing machine? Unable to hide the smile growing on your face, you have a feeling you might find out sooner than later.


	2. Cookie Crumbles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Witness as the world's greatest crime solving robot gets his ass handed to him.

    It hadn’t taken long before you’d resorted back to some old tricks. You wanted his attention and he wasn’t giving it easily. You started arguing over cases. Specifically ones where you knew he was right, which just happened to be all of them. It was your new favourite past time. Seeing him required to tolerate your outlandish theories because there’s a chance you may have something to add and he can’t risk missing it. Seeing his pleased look when he confirms that he was correct all along. 

    You two weren’t even in the same division, there was no reason for you to be anywhere near him. That didn’t stop you from finding a way to squeeze yourself into his desk space as often as possible. The files he’d handed you a week ago being the perfect excuse.

    You’d managed to solve the case on your own this morning. You were right this time. His butting in hadn’t helped you in the slightest and did little but distract you from your instincts. Officers were already on their way to arrest the culprit, but in the meantime, you were going to make him pay for making you doubt yourself. You’d be damned if you weren’t going to make a spectacle of it.

    Connor and Hank were used to you infiltrating their shared workspace and interrupting their work. It was a nearly daily occurrence. Connor was happy to see you, and for you to be interacting with Nines so much. It taught social skills and gave his brother a friend. Hank knew you too well, saw right through you, and grew tired of your antics fast. They knew how to tune you out by this point. Nines on the other hand, has yet to learn when to ignore you. He’s fallen for every line you’ve tossed him. It was almost too easy at this point.

    He doesn’t look away from his screen, “I’m disappointed in your complete lack of interest in evidence Detective.”

    Leaning against his desk, arms crossed, “I don’t really understand how the house smelling like bleach solves the case.”

    “The offender used it to poison the victim and then foolishly attempted to use it to clean their traces from the scene. It shares many key points with other murders I’ve been assigned in the area.”

    “The cleaning lady, hired by a completely different company than anything involved in your cases if I may add, had already begun to clean the house before she found him in his bedroom. That’s why the place reeked of it.”

    “She was the last one to see him alive and was the first one to the crime scene.”

    “Don’t you think that’s a bit of an impulsive accusation?”

    He stops his typing, his LED flashes yellow. Slowly, he turns to face you. You’d only ever seen him straight faced before. The phrase ‘if looks could kill’ crosses your mind. You acknowledge that he was likely being merciful because his probably could.

    “Detective [Y/L/N], I have been programmed to analyze entire crime scenes within minutes. I can reconstruct full series’ of events based solely on a chair being out of place. I can determine the cause and time of death before a coroner is even alerted that there’s a body. I can identify a murder weapon, a list of suspects, and the possible motives for each with ease. My services have been crucial on numerous cases, all of which I solved with precision. You have witnessed this on numerous occasions. I have capabilities you could only dream of. Please, tell me what crucial evidence you were able to recover that you think I somehow skimmed over.”

    Your face breaks into the most shit-eating grin. This was the exact kind of opening you were hoping for. A perfect chance to throw the seemingly irrelevant item that led to a flurry of dots connecting and solving the case, right in his stupid, smart ass, face.

    “The cookies.”

    He was silent for a moment. The yellow of his LED giving his confusion away. Likely recovering his memories of the scene and reanalyzing.

    “Repeat that please?”

    “The jar of biscotti on the counter,” You say. At this point, you’re sitting on his desk. Completely comfortable with and basking in your upper hand.

    “I remember where they were.” He snaps, “How are they relevant in the slightest?”

    “When the cleaning lady, who had absolutely nothing to do with it, arrived to the victim’s home, the first thing she did was clear a coffee cup from the dining table. It had already been washed, dried, and returned to its place in the cabinet before she discovered the body. That’s why it didn’t show up as anything suspicious on your fancy scanners.”

    You realize you’ve managed to pique Hank and Connor’s attention. They had completely given up on their terminals. Hank leaned back in his chair, a soft smile on his face. Connor visibly interested. He had wheeled himself over and was listening to you intently, LED blinking blue. You continued your explanation.

    “Biscotti is a cookie pretty much made just for being dipped in coffee. It’s nearly stale and barely edible otherwise. My victim’s daughter informed me that a coffee and cookie had been her father’s breakfast for years. He was recently suggested by his doctor to reduce the amount of sugar in his diet. Not knowing exactly how to maintain his morning habit, he asked his neighbor, a recent culinary school graduate, for help in making a sugar free variation. I’m sure you’re aware Nines, but there is a very poisonous substance that would thrive with these circumstances.”

    He shifts in his seat, crossing his own arms. Flatly, “Cyanide.”

    “Cyanide smells like bitter almonds. Almonds in the biscotti. Biscotti goes into bitter coffee. The smell and taste is now masked. What time did you say he died?”

    You were pushing it. You both know you knew but he answers anyway, “8:03 AM.”

    “Vic has his morning coffee, went to his room to change for work, dead within minutes.”

    Connor interjects, “Where does the low sugar element come into play?”

    You turn your head to his direction, “Sugar kills cyanide. The neighbor had more than enough expertise in the culinary field to piece all these points together.”

    As you finish with your figurative mic drop, you hear shouting coming from a different part of the building. It grew louder and you saw the neighbor being dragged in. He screams his confession, threatens, and curses at you in front of the whole office. Barely bothered, you all watch him struggle and being placed in one of the clear holding cells. Almost like a literal trophy case. A visual wasn’t in the plan, but you weren’t going to complain.

    Standing up straight, you add, “Thank you for time Connor, Lieutenant. RK900, thank you for your time. You don’t need worry though. This wasn’t your case, so it won’t taint your perfect record. I know how important being right is to you.”

    Hank chuckles, “He’s going to fucking kill you one day.”

    Satisfied, you turn on your heels and make your way back to your desk. You indulge yourself in a bit of a spin in your chair as you sit down. You’d done good work today.

    You didn’t even look at him for the rest of the day. You wouldn’t admit it, but Hank’s statement had weight. You’ve never seen Nines be wrong before. He probably didn’t know how to handle it. A startled and confused killing machine was probably something you should steer clear of for a while.


	3. Childish Behaviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Nora Casey under some tragic circumstances. An unwelcome partnership. Pettiness.

    He was ignoring you. Flat out refusing to speak to or look at you. I was almost funny. He was clearly still bitter about the last case, hasn’t said a thing to you since. You were still riding the high of outsmarting him for once, but this was a new case and it was going to take the both of you to get anywhere with it. You didn’t ask to be partnered up and you shouldn’t be punished as if you had.

    You shout at him from the living room, “Nines. You can’t just ignore me until we solve this thing.”

    No response. Not unexpected, but not exactly helpful either. You smoothly make your way up next to him in the kitchen. He was opening every cupboard and carefully analyzing their contents. He pulls out a mug but returns it once he notices you standing next to him.

    “Find anything interesting?” You ask.

    Still nothing. He finishes in the kitchen and makes his way back to the living room, leaving you behind. He crouches next to the, clearly much more interesting, dead body on the floor. You huff and trail after him.

    Attempting to focus on something productive, you take another look at the scene in front of you. Nora Casey, woman in her late 30s. According to her file she worked relatively high up in Cyberlife’s ranks now that they're working with androids. She designed a lot of new patches to make them feel more fulfilled in their deviancy. Connor has been taking full advantage of his new ability to taste things thanks to her. It almost made you sad to see her like this. Classic case of cocaine overdose. It’s not the first time you’ve seen something like this but that didn’t make it any less tragic.

    It’s why it’s odd that Nines is taking so long looking over her. If you could figure out what happened so quickly, why was he staring at the body like a jigsaw puzzle that was short a corner piece? What did he see that you didn’t? It’s a partnership, you’re supposed to share intel and he can’t just hold out on you like this. You needed him to be co-operative, you should be professional and just ask like an adult; but if he was going to act like a child, you were too.

    You poke the beast’s arm, “Nines?”

    This grants you a glance your way, but his gaze quickly returns to the victim. You do it again; this time to his side. You’re slightly disappointed he isn’t as ticklish as you are. He doesn’t even flinch. Though you suppose it makes sense. You weren’t going to give up so easily.

    You insist, “Are you actually doing this right now? Come on, tell me about the case. I’m sure you caught something I didn’t. You always do. Relay the whole thing to me if you want. Just talk to me.”

    You were teetering towards pleading. It was starting to get sad. Not to mention, painfully obvious to the other officers at the scene.

    “Niiiiines,” you drag the name out. It’s followed by a quick succession of jabs trailing up his arm with each repetition of his name, “Nines. Nines. Nines, Nines. Nines.”

    You reach his cheek. A sudden death grip on your wrist indicates you may have gone too far. Your heart jumps a beat and a small noise escapes your mouth. Still, at this point any reaction justified your efforts. He should know better than anyone that rewarding your actions with the attention you were craving was going to do nothing but encourage you.

    He doesn’t even turn his head, “Detective. I highly suggest you discontinue your actions.”

    His voice was low and threatening. It was a tone and level you heard only when you got to sit in on his interrogations. He’s never used it at a fellow officer. It held a clear amount of power. It said ‘I can and will kill you if I need to’. It would scare you if you weren’t so stupid.

    A smile grows on your face. Sticking your tongue out at him ever so slightly, you stretch your finger as far as you can from where he was holding it, to poke his cheek again. You fight the urge to let out a giggle. It was morbid. A dead woman lay in front of you and you’re seconds away from playing ‘ _I’m not touching you_ ’ with Cyberlife’s most advanced crime solving machine.

    His LED spirals yellow. You’re pretty sure you’re moments away from a broken wrist but instead he lets you go. He stands and turns his whole body to you. Looming over you, you’re suddenly very aware of how much taller than you he is.

    “Detective, I don’t think it’s unfounded to expect you to be professional when we are at a crime scene. Perhaps your childish behaviour is better suited for your off hours, and with your out of work friends. For your sake and mine, act like your intelligent and tactful self. Also, I suggest you keep your tongue to yourself, you don’t have the same software capabilities I do.”

    Years of police training had you accustomed to taking orders. Early mornings and late nights doing the worst jobs they could find for speaking out of line. Never before has one made you feel so small, or blush this hard. You lower your head and shift out of the way as he walks past you; disappointed, and without another word. You’d made this a game and the effects his demanding voice had on you gave away that you’d lost this round by a landslide. A few laughs come from behind you but you chose to ignore them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hesitant to post this chapter because it's the first one that really effects the mystery aspect of the story and was scared I'd need to change something as I finish off the fic. It's out there now though.


	4. Thorns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines makes a report.

    Nines doesn’t take the time to explore the garden, he has no need to. He’d been here plenty of times in the past. He knows exactly where Amanda is waiting for him and wastes no time, going there directly. He is just here to report his findings regarding the case earlier, nothing more. He didn’t see the need for the small talk but prepared himself regardless. She always insisted on asking questions she thought were subtle but were clearly pointed. He regarded it as social training.

    He arrives at the center of the garden. He watches while she tends to her roses. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a wilt in some of their petals. Something must be bothering her. After about a minute of silence he addresses her, tired of waiting.

    “Amanda.”

    She turns away from her roses, a smile on her face, “RK900. What do you have for me today?”

    “Detective [Y/L/N] and I received word of an overdose victim downtown. Upon arrival, I deduced the victim’s name was Nora Casey. She died due to asphyxia at 9 pm today in her home. Witnesses say that she’d been experiencing agitation, anxiety, and paranoia for days before her death. They also say that minutes before she died, she’d suffered a series of seizures. I found signs of cocaine in her system. It appears to have been cut with strychnine, not uncommon but rare for the Detroit region.”

    “Strychnine? Interesting.”

    “I also noted the use of a plant based poison is very similar to the most recent case. They may be related.” He was quite proud of himself for making the connection earlier. 

    “You’re referring to the cyanide case, I’m assuming.”

    He nods, “Correct.”

    Her smile falters, “But you weren’t assigned to that case. Were you?”

    LED yellow, he hesitates. He hadn’t been. He’d done nothing for it other than hand over some files. He had no right to claim the case as his own. How had he made the mistake of treating it as such?

    Losing confidence in his words, he remembers that it was his partner’s case. It made perfect sense for him to bring it up now that he was working with her. He was fine. He hadn’t made a mistake.

    “No. I wasn’t. However Detective-”

    She changes the topic she clearly wants to discuss, “Let’s talk about the Detective, shall we? She’s been appointed as your partner.” 

    He places his hands behind his back. Fixes his posture. Hoping for some level of redemption in her eyes.

    “Correct.”

    “What is it like working with her?”

  _Difficult. Irritating. Infuriating._

    “Different. She is a skilled officer but lacks focus. I do not understand why one would allow themselves to get so distracted.”

    Amanda smiles to herself as if she knew something he didn’t, “You are more than capable of solving this case on your own. Do you think a partner is necessary?”

    He’s suddenly feeling defensive,“Yes, I have the required skill set but I felt she might have additional knowledge on the use of strychnine. She’s shown a proficiency in the topic of poisons in the past.”

    She turns away from him, returning to her flowers. She does this when she’s heard enough. Her voice remains calm but keeps the authoritarian tone.

    “Everything she knows, you have programmed. You were designed to not need assistance. Do not waste time trying to keep her in line. Do not forget your mission. Understood?”

     He’s confused. Yes, the detective could be juvenile but she was a perfectly competent officer. He was simply gathering resources to aid him in his investigation. He’s discovered that maintaining  good working relationships is beneficial in making things run smoothly and quicker for him. Why would Amanda want him to limit himself? Does she want to see him challenged, or even fail? He doesn’t like that he can’t identify what her intentions are.

    “RK900. Am I understood?” she repeats herself.

    He doesn’t have the time to think. He has his job, he should be focusing on it. Questioning Amanda has never ended well. Now is not the time to start again.  

    He nods, “Yes Amanda.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't like Amanda.


	5. Mrs May I?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions start to build. The plot thickens.

    Strychnine. You’d had to read it in the report he’d filed. His attitude hasn’t improved since the last scene the two of your visited. He was still ignoring you, but felt different this time. Less bitter and fun, more cold and irritated. Like your existence was some sort of an inconvenience to him. It made you incredibly insecure. Also annoyed, and kind of insulted. You knew how to do your job and you’ve proven it already. Why was he treating you like some new recruit that didn’t deserve the time of day. 

    It made tensions high while on the scene for Alex May. You just wanted the case to be over but it seemed it was growing. To the unknown eye, it was just another overdose. Now that you knew strychnine was involved, you could see the signs. 

    You found out from Connor that Nines had done some tests and looking up files on other overdose victims, and those taken in for possession, from the past 2 weeks but none of them had any traces of the poison in their systems. This was either an entirely new batch and they needed to catch it fast before it killed any more people. Or it’s a bit more complicated and whoever’s making it is targeting big names in Cyberlife’s food chain. 

    Alex May was another Cyberlife employee. Head of some coding department, newly promoted. Family and friends said he was a great guy. Loved his wife, generous, never caused any trouble. Completely clean file, not even a parking ticket. The snarky attitude and constantly looking over his shoulder was something they’d never seen from him before. They assumed it was the stress of the new position. 

    The two of you had come to the scene together but you might as well have come alone. He hasn’t spoken to you other than to tell you where you were going. It was an uncomfortably quiet car ride over. While he went around the house to look for more clues he would inevitably not tell you about, you decided to talk to the man’s wife. Maybe show some empathy to the poor woman. 

    You found her in the kitchen. She wasn’t the kind to sit and cry to anyone who would listen. Since you got there she’d been trying to find ways to busy herself. If you paid close attention you could see the shakiness in her hands and she poured herself another cup of tea. The kettle has gone off at least twice in the past half hour. She spots you and offers an overcompensated smile.

    “Oh, would you like some tea? How silly of me to have forgotten to offer. I could put the kettle on again. We have plenty of types.” She opens the cupboard beside her, “ We have Earl Grey, Sweet Almond, Ginger Tumeric, Cinnamon, Chocolate Orange, Caramel Shortbread, Honeycrisp Apple, Jasmine, Pumpkin Chai, English Toffee. We also have some fruity ones like Peach, Watermelon, and Strawberry Rhubarb, but those are better iced. It wouldn’t be a problem, it would just take some extra time if that’s okay?”

    You take her hand. It seems to calm her just a bit. You guide her away from the cupboard and help her sit at the breakfast bar. 

    “Thank you, I’m okay. If you’re able, I’d like to ask you some questions about your husband. I know my partner already talked to you, but it never hurts to be safe. We can stop whenever you’re feeling too overwhelmed.”

    She takes a deep breath, “Of course. Of course, what do you need?”

    You remove your pad of paper and pen from your pocket, “When did the drug problems start?”

    She looks down into her tea, “Not too long ago. It started at the party. A couple coworkers wanted to surprise him to celebrate his promotion. It was a big deal. He’d been working really hard.”

    “Celebrations were definitely in order.” You try to smile at her.

    “Someone brought a bag of it. I don’t know why they would. Alex was never that kind of man. He barely even drank. Not even in college. I guess he was just too caught up in the excitement.”

    “Do you know who brought it?”

    “I wasn’t there, employees only. He never told me, I don’t think. Maybe he did but I don’t remember. He did say he didn’t recognize him though, must have been someone from the new department to help break the ice. I think it was the same guy he would go to get more from. He wanted to keep things private. He didn’t want me involved so he didn’t tell me where he was going to meet him. I know that’s not very helpful.”

    “No, no. Don’t worry about it. You can only tell me what you know and you’ve already given us a lot to work with.” You shift in your seat. It’s not the smartest question but you need to ask, “Mrs. May, can you think of anyone who might want to hurt your husband?”

    She shakes her head, “No, I can’t think of anyone. Why do you ask?”

    “Just covering the bases. No need for worry.”

    You stuff your notes back into your pocket. You don’t want to stress her out more by implying her husband might have been murdered. Stress and death can lead a brain in some dark directions and you don’t want to fuel that fire. She’s been through enough. You certainly didn’t want even the possibility being leaked out into the press. That would be a whole other set of obstacles you’d have to deal with on top of everything. You didn’t need anything else making your life difficult. If it was a series of connected cases, you’d like to have it settled as quickly and quietly as possible.

    “One more thing, if it’s not a bother.”

    “Yes?”

     “Would you mind making me a cup of that Sweet Almond? It sounds lovely.”    

     You see a hint of ease on her face, “One lump or two, dear?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, those are teas I actually own. I own a lot more than I need.


	6. Disobedience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Impatience is a virtue

    You’re restless. Tapping fingers against your desk while you mindlessly scroll through the news. Nines left an hour ago and still wasn’t back yet, which was about 45 minutes longer than it should be. He and another officer, because apparently he’s still doing his best to pretend you don’t exist, went on what was supposed to be a quick trip to go get a witness for some follow up questions. Something was delaying them and you can’t help the way your mind wanders to the worst possible outcomes. /p>

    Having been the one to talk to the witness during the initial investigation, you figured having a familiar face would make him more likely to be co-operative. You’d pushed that you should be the one coming with him but Nines insisted he would take care of it, that he could handle it. It should be an easy retrieval. Sit tight, look over the case. He’d be back in no time and you could talk to the witness then.  

    Nines was incredible at his job, he knew how to handle things on his own, but that wasn’t going to stop you from being worried. He wasn’t even answering your text messages, which he always did. It took him barely any effort, so you’d gotten used to at least one word answers to your questions. Even when you were being annoying. Just an acknowledgement was all you need right now but he’d gone quiet. Either he’s been giving the situation his full attention for the past half hour or something’s cut off his ability to send communications. Neither option optimal.  

    Your leg was starting to hurt from bouncing it. You’ve done all you can think of to distract yourself. Finished outstanding paperwork, reorganized evidence, went over the case over with Hank to see if he had anything helpful to add. Hell, you even took your desk’s garbage out. You’ve lost all your momentum and were just refreshing the news. Every new update popping up startles you. The next could say they found him dead in an alley somewhere. 

    You turn to look at Connor. He looked just as unfocused as you did, nervously playing with his coin in one hand. He was probably doing the same thing you were, waiting for any kind of update. He knew they’d been gone too long. You were almost as concerned for him as you were for Nines.

    If you lost him, you’d be out a partner. And yeah, he’s been a real pain lately but it wouldn’t exactly bring you joy if something happened to him. But if Connor lost his brother? He didn’t have many people in life and Nines was probably more important to him than you or Hank were. You’re not sure how he would handle it. Would Cyberlife even send a replacement? Even if they did, it wouldn’t be the same. 

    You give into the anxiety. You stand and grab your jacket off the back of your chair. Briefly making eye contact with Connor as you walk out so someone sees you leaving. He knows where you’re going. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him stand, probably to try to stop you. You know it’s stupid for a plethora of reasons but patience has never been a strong suit. You were going to go to the scene, figure out what the hell is going on, and get your partner back. 

    Hearing the ordeal before seeing any action, you park a couple blocks away from where they were supposed to be. The sound of gunshots remind you to think twice about rushing in. Nines better not be shooting at your witness. 

    You try your best to get eyes on the scene without being spotted. Drawing attention was just going to get yourself reprimanded for going against orders or seriously injured by someone stupid and scared enough to be shooting at officers. You needed to get a better scope of the situation before making any decisions. You had to get closer. 

    You see Nines before anyone else. He’s crouched behind a car with the officer he’d taken instead of you. Resentment boils up but it quickly cast aside at the realization that he’s the one being shot at, evident by the bright blue thirium soaking through his jacket and dripping from his abdomen. You were surprised to see him taking shelter opposed to going after the shooter directly. 

    You’re also kicking yourself for how much the sight of him in action is causing you to throw your focus to the wind. You’ve never seen him in action before and he’s never looked more attractive. That is the domineering thought in the moment and you hated it. You were supposed to be angry at him and here you are drooling. It was like the cover of a bad romance novel. The shame doesn’t stop you from trying to memorize every bit of the sight for later.

    However, more urgently; he, another officer, and you were all still very much in danger right now. You need to get yourself together. Do your job. Your heart was racing and you regret running out of the precinct so quickly. You were completely unprepared, unprotected, and unarmed. 

    Thankfully Nines seems to be the only one injured so far and it didn’t look too bad. He could easily be repaired, it’s happened before, but he was still your partner. He was still your friend’s brother. He was still a person you were supposed to protect. You need to figure out where the shooter was situated and start developing an inkling of a plan. 

    “I didn’t kill her!”

    Well that answers that question. Using the DPD as shooting practice while you say that was not helping your case kid. At least you could locate the voice from your spot behind the building. The witness was standing by his front door, both hands on the gun pointed at your coworkers. He just had a small handgun, but it was far from harmless. 

    Nicholas Casey, the younger brother of your first victim, Nora. It makes you upset that he’s so young, maybe fresh into college. He looked quite a bit like his sister, which had to be hard for him. He didn’t deserve to be wrapped up this mess. It’s not a surprise he’s being so impulsive. It was odd he was just standing there though. He seemed like a runner. He must be really shaken. You could work with that.

    You take a deep breath. Where was Connor when you needed him? You couldn’t even text him for back up. Impulsiveness really fucked you over today. You try to shrug off the insecurity. You got this. You’re a skilled detective. You’ve done this a million times. This would not be the first time you’ve had a gun pointed at your head and certainly won’t be the last.

    You inch closer. Staying out of sight. Back against the wall of a nearby building. Making sure you were loud enough to be heard. If Nick didn’t kill you, Nines would.

    “I know you didn’t!” You yell back in the general direction of the scene.

    He shouts in your direction, sounding unsure of where you are, “Who the hell are you?” 

    “I’m Detective (Y/L/N) from the DPD! I’m one of the officers working on your sister's case! We talked before!”

    “It wasn’t me! I didn’t do it! I didn’t have anything to do with it! You have to believe me!”

    You did believe him. It was easy to. Clean record other than some rebellious vandalism. He didn’t seem like the type to deal. You’d be surprised if he ever even saw his sister’s supply. 

    “I know it wasn’t! I don’t want to hurt you! I just want to talk! Put the gun down and we can handle this peacefully. Okay? I’m unarmed!”

    There’s no answer. You think about how stupid it is to be putting yourself in danger like this. You should’ve just let Nines deal with this. He was right, he could handle this on his own. You’ve probably just fucked up whatever he was working towards. He knew he could just go downtown and buy new parts if he got damaged.

    “Fine!” Nick’s voice cuts you back to reality.

    You carefully step out from your hiding place, clearly in view of all involved. You hear a sharp noise then someone crying out your name, muffled from your ears ringing. You glance at your arm and immediately grip around it. Thankfully Nick is a terrible shot and it doesn’t look like it hit anything too important. No bones or arteries, you’re not in enough pain for that. It is bleeding like a bitch though. Hopefully it’s just superficial but you still needed to try to prevent as much as you could. This was going to have to go quickly, maybe 10 minutes, before the numbness and adrenaline wears off.  It had to be your right arm too, didn’t it? 

    You raise your arms as much as you can and show off your empty hands. You slowly try to make your way closer without provoking him. Another shot would have you on the ground.

    “I know you’re scared Nick! I want to help you, but you need to put the gun down!”

    “There’s nothing you can do! She’s gone! You can’t just bring her back!” 

    His voice was cracking, screaming, emotional. At least you were making progress. You’re close enough you don’t have to yell anymore. He instinctively takes a step back and adjusts his grip on the weapon, shaking. He’s hurting, terrified. A cornered animal with no means of escape. 

    “I know. I know how much that must hurt. I have a little brother." Connor was like your brother, right? "I can’t imagine him ever going through something like this. I’m so sorry. I know how-”

    “You have no idea how this feels!”

    You try your best to remain calm, “You’re right. I don’t.”

    He sounds desperate, “They took her away from me!”

    They? They is new. Who is they? Why didn’t he mention a they the first time you talked to him? This opened up a whole new list of questions, suspects, possible motives. 

    “Who did? Who took her?” 

    He goes silent. Unable to look you in the eye. He’s holding back something. Something huge. You wanted to let him go but now he had info you needed.  

    You continue, “Nick. I want to help you but you need to help me too. We’ll just go down to the station. You can tell us what you know. Everything is going to be fine. Okay? All you have to do is give me the gun. They’ll put you in cuffs because you grazed me, but I promise everything is going to be okay.”

    His arms are lowering, “You swear?”

    “I swear.” You hold out your non bleeding arm. Palm up. 

    He’s not aiming at you anymore but he’s holding the weapon close, like a security blanket. If it’s what he needed to feel safe, you were willing to let him have it for a while. As long as he keeps talking. 

    “I forgot your name.”

    You smile weakly, “It’s (Y/N).”

    “(Y/N)?” He asks. Not like he's confused but like he's asking for permission. 

    “Yeah?” 

    “I’m scared.”

    You chuckle a little,“I know you are. I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

    Tears forming in his eyes, “I’m sorry for shooting you. It was so stupid. I’m sorry.”

    A genuine smile pulls at your lips, “It’s okay. It isn’t even going to need stitches.”

    It was definitely going to need stitches. The blood was a lot darker than it should be, and there was too much of it for the bullet to have hit something harmless. You were starting to get a little dizzy but you were too close to quit now. Plus there was no chance you were going to let Nines pull this out from under you. 

    He shows his age, ‘You’re not mad? It looks really bad.”

    It’s burning but you stay calm. You couldn't afford to lose him now, “Not at all. I’ve had way worse. They have a whole folder dedicated to it. I can show you the scars back at the station.”

    He takes a breath and hesitantly holds the gun out to you. You take it and slowly put it on the ground. Foot kicking it behind you. He was still a flight risk until someone else gets up here and you weren't going to give him any reason to bolt. Hopefully someone will remember to grab it.

    “You’re doing great Nick. You’re going to help us get the people that killed your sister. You don’t need to be scared anymore. Okay? She would be so proud of you.” An officer passes from behind you and gets a hold of Nick, “Be careful with him. He’s crucial to the investigation.” 

    He’s guided away from you and towards one of the newly arrived back up cruisers Nines must have called for. You let yourself breathe. That was definitely one of the more stressful situations you’d gotten into lately. Fuck, your arm hurts.

    The disorientation finally really hits you. It’s like a brick to the head. You try to fight it but it’s like trying to dig out of a hole that’s collapsing in on you. Trying to stay afloat in a raging river with waves dragging you down. A clawing spreading through your chest. Inescapable and inevitable.  

    Your arm is drenched. The feeling of blood in between the layers of your clothes was never going to be something you’ll get used to. It’s warm and sticky. A small puddle of blood forming at your feet. 

    You were fine. You’ve been shot before. You feel weak. It’s not your first rodeo. Your balance is gone. You can't let Nick see you struggling. You laugh to yourself, amazed Nines wasn't already yelling at you for being such an idiot. You’d deserve it. Maybe he was but everything was foggy. You could barely focus on anything. You were crying against your will. You're starting to panic. You turn to try to find him and can see a blurry figure coming towards you before as you fall. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *finger guns*


	7. System Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6: Part Two, Electric Boogaloo

    “I know you didn’t!”

    No. No, that wasn’t her. It couldn’t be her. He told her to stay at her desk. He didn’t need the added weight of keeping her under control on this so he told her to stay.

    “I’m Detective (Y/L/N) from the DPD! I’m one of the officers working on your sister's case! We talked before!”

    That was definitely her voice. Did she ever listen? Was she even capable of doing what she’s told? Why does she insist on making things more complicated? Does she secretly find enjoyment in making his job more difficult? He didn’t need her help.

    He does his best to locate her from his place crouched behind the patrol car he’d arrived in. He couldn’t find her and it did nothing but frustrate him. Making sure she returned to the office unharmed was something he was trying to avoid but the block of text informing him of the addition to his mission pops up in his vision regardless of his efforts. There was little he could do from his position and had more pressing matters to deal with.

    Nicholas Casey was the younger brother of the first victim, Nora Casey. He hadn’t given them much information during the first round of statements but it was clear he was hiding something. They’d come to bring him in for a second attempt at pulling anything useful from him. Little conversation happened before Nines identified the weapon carelessly concealed in the boy’s waistband. He’d taken a single bullet before his accompanying officer dragged him out into the street. They’ve been attempting negotiations but to no avail. All signs indicated that Casey would shoot and initiate a chase. He has kept his stance but Nines was ready for any circumstance.

    Except of course, his impatient partner deciding to take the situation into her own hands.

    He manages to rise up enough to see Casey without drawing attention. He supposed he had to give her credit for creating a distraction. They’d managed to stay close enough that he could see the adolescent’s nervous behaviour. He couldn’t tell where the detective was either. A small relief.

    “I’m unarmed!”

    She can’t be serious? She had to be lying for the sake of gaining trust. He knows they’d taken longer than originally expected but she couldn’t possibly be reckless enough to impulsively march her way here so unprepared. She was better than that. Why would she admit to being unarmed otherwise?

    “Fine!”

    He follows the line of Nicholas’ aim and watches her step out from behind a nearby building. He quickly scans over her and confirms that she is, in fact, unarmed. Why was she putting herself in full view with no protection other than a thin jacket? This was completely unnecessary.

    He was so busy attempting to understand the irresponsibility of the actions that he doesn’t see Nicholas’ panic. Preoccupied with thinking about how exactly he was going to explain this situation in his report later. Trying to figure out just how stupid she must be to come alone.

    He hears the gunshot the same time everyone else does.  

    “[Y/N]!” he yells without thinking.

    His inner monologue glitches away and his focus can’t move from her arm. Too far away and his view is obstructed by her hand, he’s unable to properly identify where she’s been hit. A countdown marker appears in the corner of his vision.

    She’d been shot. [Y/N] had been shot and he didn’t stop it. Arrogance clouding his ability to keep the situation under control. He should’ve been paying more attention. As his partner, she’s his responsibility.

    She had plenty of reports on record of ballistic injuries. He’s read every entry already but he’s frantically scrolling through them again. This type of self sacrificial behaviour was not uncommon. He should’ve taken that into account. She was already applying pressure to the bleeding wound. It doesn’t look promising. He should’ve prevented it.

    She’d been shot and it was his fault. If he’d been faster at apprehending the witness, she wouldn’t have come. If he had brought her in the first place, she would be safe beside him behind the vehicle. If he’d taken advantage of the distraction provided instead of wasting the opportunity. He shouldn’t have allowed her to be left out in the open like that. He could’ve prevented it.

    It doesn’t matter how much of an inconvenience she’s been. How she’s slowed the investigation. Hindered his progress. Dragged his efficiency to a crawl. Even if she wasn’t his partner on the case. He’s certain he would’ve prevented it.

    He fights the instinct to stand and shoot the culprit right then and there. He’d be fully in his right to do so. He’d resisted arrest and has now shot at two DPD officers. He’s a danger to himself and all those involved. Even Amanda wouldn’t be able to criticize him for it.

    He hesitates only due to the sight of the detective; remaining completely calm as she approaches the man that just assaulted her. She was doing her job, unlike him. Going to accomplish her mission. Something he’s failed to achieve on all accounts today. Determined to take the witness into custody even if it killed her, and it might if she keeps walking so slowly. He can do nothing but watch.              

    Now that she was closer, he could analyze the injury properly. The bullet had easily passed through the jacket and torn the brachial vein, resulting in a serious case of ischemia. She was losing blood. Fast. Too fast. She didn’t have long until the adrenaline wore off. She needed immediate attention but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t move.  

    She seems completely unaffected as she continues to negotiate with the now felon. Nines takes the opportunity to phone Connor back at the precinct. Why didn’t she think to bring Connor? Why didn’t Connor join her? They both knew better than to let her come alone.

    “ _Nines, what’s happening? Are you okay?_ ” Connor’s voice blares in his head, voice loud compared to the now quieted environment.

    “ _[Y/N] has been shot and is attempting to negotiate with the witness. How fast do you think you can get here?”_

_“I’m already on my way. I’m arranging a back up team. I saw her run out. She was really worried about you.”_

    He takes a look at [Y/N]. Dark blood staining her hands. She came because of him. He supposed he knew that but he hadn’t made the connection until now. There was an emotional element he’d neglected to consider. Not only did she get injured due to his lack of action, but because of his mere existence.

    He feels his systems begin to heat up. Nowhere near overheating levels but still at an alarming rate. He has to hold onto the handle of the door of cruiser as he regains control. He’s never reacted this way before. Something was seriously wrong with him and he couldn’t locate it’s cause, which did nothing but frustrate him more. There were too many things going on. His systems were working overtime and still couldn’t get anything done.

    Out of the corner of his vision, he sees the officer he’s brought along stand. He does the same to observe his surroundings. She’d managed to get within feet of the witness and convinced him to drop his weapon. How had he missed that? Why couldn’t he focus?

    Another analysis indicates she’s lost enough blood that she’s close to losing consciousness. Pulse pressure has decreased and heart rate increased. His thirium pump is working at an accelerated pace, almost matching.

    Nicholas is handcuffed and led back to the car. Acknowledging the boy doesn’t even cross his mind. He expects the detective to follow the pair over to him, but she doesn’t. She stays in place, moving only to glance at and grip the wound tighter. Surely, she understands the severity and was going to start taking it seriously. The most logical thing would be to seek the closest emergency care provider.

    The realization washes over him that that role belongs to him and he should have already been providing said care the second Nicholas was cuffed. But he’s still frozen, watching the blood drip from her fingers onto the cement. He was lagging significantly. He was going to have to perform a full systems check later. He was a total mess.

    Finally she moves her feet, turning towards him. Though it’s difficult to assess if she can see him or not. Tears are falling from her face, and disorientation would’ve started already. She starts laughing. Not an unfamiliar reaction to intense emotional trauma. It’s almost disturbing to see it from her given the circumstances. In such a dire situation.

    Your eyes meet. He hears the faintest gasp of his name and suddenly he’s regained mobility, running at full speed towards her. He barely gets there in time to catch her. Against his will, his arms are around her, pulling her tightly against him. Skin is already starting to go cold. He adjusts his rising temperature to compensate. He’d failed to keep her safe, the least he can do is keep her alive. Hopefully he was still capable of such a simple task. Scanning the area shows him a newly arrived ambulance and Connor quickly approaching.

    “How is she?” he asks.

    “Brachial vein. She needs assistance within the next few minutes. Help me get her over there.”

    He should be able to take to the ambulance himself but he can’t trust his processors right now. He points his chin in the direction of the MP600s. He lets go only as much as needed to allow Connor to hook his arm under her. It only takes seconds to carry her but it feels like hours.

    Once she’s been handed over and was being tended to, he should’ve relaxed. It was the complete opposite. He watched every one of her vitals as the androids worked. He thinks about the consequences if she didn’t recover. If he’d been too late. Would he be replaced for getting a DPD officer, his partner, killed? He’s seen humans die plenty of times. He’d been programmed to withstand the sight over and over. Why was the idea of this human dying making him so nervous?

    He double checked every measure they took. Making sure they were working exactly to standard procedure. Was the equipment up to code? Were the models out of date? Were they doing everything they could?

    Connor rests a hand on his shoulder, “Nines, calm down. They know what they’re doing.”

    He shoves his brother’s hand off of him, “My partner was shot Connor! I am designed for few things, keeping her safe is one of them and I failed. I failed to even lay a hand on the witness that did it. Seeing her injured has rendered me nearly incapable of even basic function. I froze. She was minutes from dying and I couldn’t move. I had to watch her suffer before I could do anything. I don’t fully comprehend the events that just took place but I am doing all I can to ensure they do what I couldn’t. So no, I will not ‘calm down’. I’m going to do my job for once today.”

    Connor looks like he has more to say but chooses to just nod and stand beside him in support. It takes about 20 minutes before she can open her eyes again and force herself to sit up. Arm heavily bandaged but they’d been able to stop the bleeding.

    “Nines?” Voice shaky and tired. He doesn’t care that she’s still in pain and not fully aware of her surroundings. His worry swiftly transforms into anger.

    “What were you thinking?” He shouts, “Not only did you just put yourself in an immeasurable amount of danger, you went against orders!”

    Obviously still under the effects of the drugs, she chuckles, “Fowler didn’t tell me I couldn’t come.”

    It feels like the thirium itself is heating up now, “Now is not the time to be sarcastic! What passed through your mind to lead you to believe that what you just did was an intelligent idea?”

    “Well, you were-”

    “Me? The state of the art machine built for this exact scenario? You were concerned about my well being?”

    “Yes?” she cautiously answers.

    He pauses for a second. He forces himself to use a calmer tone, not wanting to put her body under any additional stress, “So you went into live fire, unarmed, unprotected with the impression that you were going to come out unharmed?”

    “You were bleeding.” she says like it’s a fact.

    It really was entirely his fault.

    “ _You’re_ bleeding! Do you not understand that if you receive such significant damage, you’re likely to not recover?”

    A weak smile crosses her lips, “Oh please. It’s fine. Barely a scratch.”

    She had to be kidding.  “Quite the contrary. You’ve already suffered close to 17% blood loss. You’re lucky he missed your brachial artery, which is the most commonly injured artery in the upper extremities, if I may add. Thankfully your circulation and breathing seem normal, but that doesn’t mean you can disregard- ”

    It’s her turn to raise her voice, “Look! I went in there because I was scared I was going to lose you! I know it was stupid but it’s already done okay? Spare me the lecture.”

    He pauses for a moment. Why would she be so foolish?

    He spits, “I told you not to come on this mission! I am perfectly capable of handling these things alone! There was no need for you to put yourself in such a dangerous position.”

    “It was supposed to be a quick retrieval! You said it would be, and I quote, frivolous! I came because you were taking forever and I was worried! Sue me! I don’t know what I did to you but you need to remember I earned my place on the force. I’m sorry we’re not all born at our full potential okay? Get over yourself and learn to say thank you for once!”

    He knows her emotions are taking over from increased stress and lingering pain. That’s why she’s so angry with him. She would be back to normal soon. Things would be fine. It was more a reassurance than just stating facts.

    She hops down from the back of the ambulance, “We’ll talk about this later, if you decide I’m worth it. Right now I have to help a very scared 18 year old boy.”

    He wants to instruct that she shouldn’t leave the vehicle or strain her arm but it didn’t seem appropriate, or that she’d be willing to listen. Nines turns to Connor for support. He had to understand where he was coming from, right?                             

    “You should say thank you more.” he shrugs before following [Y/N] to talk to Nicholas.

    Nines stood there alone, completely unaware of what he should do. He’s lost and has no one he can ask for help. Should he apologize? The outburst carried some truth. He had been quite cold for the past little while. But he was just following orders.

    His mission was to solve the case but that seemed to be getting more and more difficult as his relationship with her has gotten to such a hostile state. She had to take over entirely today, him nearly useless. If even Connor is siding with her, maybe he’d approached this incorrectly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are always so much shorter on ao3 then they look in the google doc.


	8. Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I found your address through your file. However, Connor informed me of your living arrangement.” he adjusts his grip on the bags’ handles, “As well as some of your food preferences.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Fluff time baby. This is such a classic trope and I'm happy to provide.

    "What are you doing here Detective?" He asks as you settle your jacket on the back of your chair.

    You sit, "I work here? Did they reset you in the two days I was gone without telling me?"

    “No they didn’t and you shouldn't be here."

    “I promise you, this is my desk. Look, it's even got my name on it." 

    Waving the plastic name plate in front of him before placing it back in its place on the edge of the table. You were still plenty angry at him and weren’t ready to be fake professional yet. There were no apologies or texts sent by either of you since you jumped off the back of the ambulance. It was almost a shock to hear him speak to you. 

    Unaffected by your snark, he continues to speak, "I understand. My point is that you shouldn’t be back to work yet. You suffered a near fatal gun wound less than 72 hours ago. You should be at home focusing on your recovery. Which is why your presence here, at your desk, is concerning." 

    "So now you suddenly care about my well being? I thought you'd be  _ thrilled _ I wasn't letting my weak human body hold us back any longer than it needed to." It comes out with a bit more venom than you intended but you stick to it. 

    He frowns, "Even if that was the case, you still need more time to heal."

    "Well I'm here now. Let’s just get something done. I’ll be fine." 

    You turn away from him and shift your focus on your terminal. You try to ignore the soreness in your arm. Spite is a surprisingly effective painkiller. 

    Out of the corner of your eye, you see him stand and walk away from the desk. Good. You didn't want to see him either. Maybe you could actually get something done. 

    A few minutes later, Fowler is shouting your name across the office, "(Y/N)! Go home!" 

    You shoot him a look of irritated confusion. You’d barely logged into the system yet. He rolls his eyes and lifts his hand in the direction of Nines, still standing in the captain’s office. The android looks very pleased with himself; arms behind his back, looking at you with the slightest smirk he thinks you can’t see. Fucking tattle tale robot. 

    It wasn't worth it to try to fight Fowler on it. Once he made a decision, it wasn't likely to change. He also doesn't like being told how to run his force so he'd be pissed enough as it is.A decent chunk of the office is watching you, better to not defy your boss right now.

    You groan and make a scene of shutting off your terminal, grabbing your jacket and bag, and glaring at Nines as you pass him.  You don’t even get the chance to say goodbye to Hank or Connor. You just want to get as far away from Nines as possible before you tear him apart.

_

    After an hour of ranting to the air of your empty apartment, you’d calmed down. You didn’t want to admit it but maybe you should take the break. Your arm did still hurt. He’d probably make a lot of progress without your attitude and you could go back with a clear head. The logic didn’t stop you from still being angry at him.

    You finally find a comfortable position on the couch. A bowl of chips balanced perfectly on your chest, remote on the side table, terrible crime show reruns from 2018 on the tv. If you were going to be forced to sit at home, your day was going to be devoid of literally anything substantial. You’re eyeing your pants, wondering why they’re still on, when a series of knocks hit the front door.

     You debate whether you had the energy or will to go up and answer it. Another set of knocks and the answer reluctantly shifts to yes. It might be Connor coming to check on you and it wouldn’t be fair to ignore him. You shuffle over and immediately regret opening the door. 

     He’s standing there, in your hallway. Does he ever take a hint? How did he even get into the building? You don’t want to think about it. His Cyberlife jacket was folded neatly and slung over his shoulder. With what was peeking out of the bags he was holding, you could see he went grocery shopping. 

     “What do you want?” You snap.

     Nines explains, “You’re injured. The fact that you don’t take proper care of yourself is clear on multiple counts. Someone needs to supervise you to make sure you don’t hurt yourself further.”

     Who the hell does he think he is? He really couldn’t read signals, could he? He thinks he can just invite himself over and bring you some food and everything would be fine? 

     “You think that role falls to you?”

     “You live alone. Who else?” 

     Literally anyone. Connor, Hank. You could go to their place for a few days. Even dealing with Gavin sounds more appealing right now. 

     “Do I even want to know how you know that?”

     “I found your address through your file. However, Connor informed me of your living arrangement.” he adjusts his grip on the bags’ handles, “As well as some of your food preferences.”

_      Traitor.  _

    He continues, “I also thought we could work on the case here. You seem adamant on working, which is admirable. I brought what physical files I could and have the rest stored.”

    You cross your arms and lean against the door frame. It hurts but you were still too pissed to care.

    “I could’ve been doing that at work right now. If you hadn’t been such a stuck up and gotten me sent home. In front of everyone in the office I’ll add. It was like an obnoxious mom making the principal send their kid home because they sneezed.”

    “I reminded Captain Fowler of sections within your contract that state the required amount of leave for such an injury.”

    “I don’t need your help! You know what? Why are you even here Nines? I know you see me as this huge pain in your ass.” 

    He takes a second to answer, “I wanted to apologize. You were right the other day. I have been neglecting our partnership. Your emotional state and input on the case are important and I should’ve been more perceptive. I’m sorry.”

    An apology was the last thing you expected. The comment about your inability to take care of yourself? Sure. Even deserved that one. But to hear him say he’s sorry? Had you ever heard him give an apology before? He probably owes Hank a backlog of them. He’s had to have done it before though, right? Otherwise he wouldn’t be so decent at it. 

    You don’t want to but you find your tension dissolving. Maybe he’s actually trying. 

    "That’s a nice way of saying you've been a dick."

    “Yes, I suppose it is. I was wrong to behave the way I have been. I find I’m wrong quite often when I’m around you. I felt that ‘making it up to you’, so to speak, was an appropriate course of action. Unfortunately I’m not sure as to how to do that exactly and haven’t had much success so far. Please bear with me as I try my best.”

     You sigh. You want to be angry. Want to scream and yell and tell him to get the hell away from you but you can’t. The back of your brain says it’s just programming. Just trying to get the relationship with you to a point where you can work together as a team again. That you’ll stop being tempted to shoot him if he makes another wrong move. But looking at him in the hallway, an almost lost look on his face; you let yourself believe he means it. You step aside. He takes it as permission and walks into your apartment. 

    The mess makes itself clear the deeper he walks in. You try your best to subtly toss some garbage out and throw old clothes into your room out of sight. You really needed to clean more often. He definitely notices but is smart enough to not mention anything, though you know he’s dying to. 

    He easily finds the kitchen without direction and places the bags on the counter. You stand awkwardly and watch him calmly unload the haul. Connor must know more about you than you thought because every single item that comes out of the bags looks amazing. Just standing there not doing anything was starting to make you feel stupid. The least you can do is help.

    You go to grab a box of cookies, “I can put these away.”

    He turns his head to you. The look he gives you reminds you of when you got caught trying to sneak these exact treats when you were a kid but with the threat of death being just a bit too real for comfort. You pull your hand back. 

    “You will do no such thing. I can find where they go. Go sit.” He didn’t sound like he was in the mood for resistance, “Have you eaten yet?” 

    Your eyes flick to the couch and your forgotten snacks, “I was going to.”

    You see him glance in the same direction, “Chips aren’t a meal.”

    “Says you.”

    “Correct. How does roasted chicken and potatoes sound?”

    It admittedly sounds amazing. You can’t remember the last time you had a real dinner. You’ve been living off office coffee and take out since you got to Detroit. Breakfast has been completely out of the question for months, but now might not be the time to mention that. There are boxes of dishes you haven’t unpacked yet because there’s no use for them. 

    You take a seat at the kitchen table on the other side of the counter, “Do you even know how to cook?”

    “Not in my original programming but I have downloaded some corresponding recipes to the ingredients I’ve bought. I just hope you like everything. I am relying on outside information.”

    He puts a carton of milk in the fridge. You’ve never seen it so full before. It usually just had leftovers in it. Now it looked like you’d raided a grocery store. How were you supposed to get through all of it before it went bad?

    It’s like he can read your mind, “I’ve created a basic meal plan. I’ll email it to you. No need to worry about the food expiring.”

    He’s putting a lot of faith, and effort, into you right now. You’re starting to feel guilty for being so petty earlier. 

    “Oh, okay. Thanks.”

    “How is your arm?” A welcome topic change.

    You roll your shoulder. They’d fixed it up real quick, days ago. It’s a wonder how far medical technology has advanced in the past few years. It’s already healed over and they managed to get it so it wouldn’t scar too much. You’re almost sad for the loss of a conversation starter. It was still going to be weak for the next little while though. 

    “Fine, I guess. It’s sore.”

     “Shouldn’t have gotten shot then.” he quips, not making eye contact as he starts peeling potatoes. 

    Excuse me? Was that? Humor? A joke from the King of Serious Business? You can’t help the smile. 

    You lean back in your seat and toss something back, “Wouldn’t have if someone had done his job faster.” 

    He pauses, his LED flashing between yellow and red for a moment. For a split second you fear you may have pushed it too far, too quickly. He probably felt terrible already. Your worry eases when he finally starts moving again, pulling a pot from the cupboard.

    “Well maybe if someone wasn’t so distracting, I could’ve. Where’s your cutting board?”

    Okay, he wins this round. What was that supposed to mean? You’d be hesitant to take it the way you desperately want to but the smile on his face tell you that was his exact intention. 

    But if he thought he was going to just deflect and you’d let it go, he was sorely mistaken. This is what you live for. He doesn't get to just drop that on you like that.

    “Excuse me? Care to repeat that?” you ask.

    Deliberately obtuse, “I asked where your cutting board is. I need it to prepare dinner.’

    “You know that’s not what I meant.”

    “Oh, I see. My apologies. I’ll admit your complete lack of forethought at the time was so surprising it put me in a temporary state of shock. An impressive feat. You should be proud of yourself.” he teases, “I repeat, cutting board?”

    You pout, “On top of the microwave. And I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

_     'I did it for you’ _ sits on the tip of your tongue but you bite it back. It wouldn’t be fair to make him feel worse. He was stepping way out of his comfort zone right now. He wasn’t meant for this kind of care but he’s doing it for you. To apologize.

     It was almost romantic how things are playing out. Domestic. Was he just going to stay the night or was this going to be more? Could you handle the sight of him in your kitchen on a regular basis? You shake the thought from your head. It’s not fair to yourself to start that train of thought. 

     You stay in your seat and watch him like it’s television for the next 30 minutes. You’d never believe he wasn’t a chef model if you didn’t know him. It was a simple meal, you could probably do it with your eyes closed if you ever had the energy; but he makes it look like second nature. Everything was timed perfectly. No overflowing boiling water or overcooked chicken. The only visible sign of struggle was that his LED was yellow the whole time. 

     He sets the plate on the table in front of you. It’s beautiful, because of course it is. It’d be stupid to have expected less. He’d made a salad for the side too. The potatoes were fluffy and even had that little square of butter melting in the middle. It didn’t look real. It was like one of those fake sets where they paint the food or douse it in hairspray to make it all shiny. 

     “I chose items high in iron. You lost a lot of blood. A deficiency is expected.”

     That explains why everything smells so good and why it suddenly feels like you haven’t eaten in weeks. You realize this is exactly what you body was craving. The chips couldn’t hold a candle to this. You really should take better care of yourself. 

     “Thank you.”

     “You’re welcome. Now there are a few options for dessert.”

     Mouth half stuffed with chicken, “Dessert?”


	9. Twice A Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A classic I couldn"t resist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small, badly formatted chapter because I really wanted to post but forgot my laptop at home this weekend.

    You’ve never taken great care of your wounds before. Scrapes and cuts always healed on their own. Maybe a band-aid here or there. You weren’t an idiot; big injuries got some level of attention but never what they really deserved. A full first aid kit hasn’t been a priority. Until now. 

    “When was the last time you rewrapped your bandages?”

    “Oh yeah, I’m supposed to do that aren’t I?”

    So now you have the equivalent of a small hospital in your bathroom. The box had enough gauze, bandages, cotton pads, creams, and gloves to last you for the rest of your life. It was better than what they had back at the station, and a bit excessive.

    Twice a day, you were placed in the shower to clean the quickly disappearing wound. An unnecessary act, due to it being closed up and almost done healing, but your protests fell on deliberately deaf ears. Instead, you were continuously dragged to the bathroom in your tank top and shorts on a daily basis. He was already here, he was going to take every precaution he could find to make sure you weren't going to ruin all your progress. 

    “I’ll remind you, I am capable of washing my own arm.”

    “Hush.”

    He holds your arm by the wrist, keeping it outstretched towards him. It’s quiet in the bathroom other than the hum of the pipes and the water hitting the plastic tub at your feet. The warm water runs down your arm, causing goosebumps to rise across your skin. You watch the soap bubbles wash away with it. How he managed to do this without ever getting your clothes wet still impresses you. 

    He’s so focused and meticulous, you’d think he was performing the surgery again. You may have stared too long the first time you saw him leave the jacket in the other room and roll up his sleeves. It was the only reason you didn’t fight him more. His hands were gloved to prevent the risk of infection. You reminded him that he didn’t really need them but it’s not like he listens to you.

    Even the towel he uses to pat dry your arm off is warm. Fresh from the dryer. You didn’t need packing, all it needs is pads and gauze. If it were up to you, you wouldn’t even give it that but there was no way you were going to get away with leaving it uncovered. 

    He’s gentle while rewrapping your arm. Like he’ll break you if he wasn’t careful enough. You’re not sure if it’s on purpose but he always goes around your arm at least 3 times more than he needs to. It was never too tight though, which was nice. You did not have the skills to do that to yourself. Having someone to help didn’t suck as much as you thought it would.  

    “Done.” He pulls the gloves off and places them in the trash. 

    “Why do you keep doing this?” The words come out before you can think about them. 

     “You need to clean the wound at least twice a day.”

     You step out and dry your feet on the bath mat, “No, you idiot. I mean. I’ve already forgiven you. You’re off the hook. You don’t need to stay any more.”

     “Contrary to what you might believe, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

    “I know that but-”

    “Stop.” 

    You do. You shut up. It’s proven to be easier that way.

    “I’m going to start dinner. Would you like to help? It’ll ease your guilt and be good to keep your arm elevated.”

    You nod, “Okay.” 

    He places the towel in the hamper as he walks out, “Don’t forget to take your antibiotics. I noticed you’ve missed a few. Just because you’re feeling better, doesn’t mean you can’t skip them. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this,the last chapter, and the next one were all going to be one but I like breaking it up a bit better


	10. Rumors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Nines get a visitor

    It’s been a week of this strange routine you’ve settled into. Nines convinced Fowler to let him work with you here during the day instead of alone at the office; the two of you conversing only through text and meeting up in the evenings to review. This was much more productive. For the first time you realize just how well the two of you work together when you try. Except, of course, for the times when you whine in an attempt to convince him to take a break and watch something with you. It has yet to be successful.

   Tossing a file on the couch cushion in front of you, “All this work is stressful Nines. It’s not good for my arm.”

   He picks it up and hands it back to you, “You just want to watch more reruns.”

   “You know there’s a theory that you’re supposed to take breaks every 20 minutes.”

   “That is so incorrect I’m not even going to take the time to explain.”

   “Please?”

   “No. We have to go over the Nicholas Casey interview you did. I think perhaps you trying to have a coherent conversation with him so close to him shooting you, wasn’t the best idea you’ve had.”

   You stick your tongue out at him, “I got plenty from him and you know it.” A knock on the door, “Ha! I smell a break!”

   You stand to go open the door but you’re guided back down into your spot on the couch. You huff as he walks over to greet your visitor. Taking a glance around the room, you hope it’s someone non judgemental or from the office. Contrary to Nines’ efforts, there are papers everywhere. The floor is a much bigger space than your desk is and you were going to take advantage of it.

   “[Y/N]!” 

   You turn, “Connor! What are you doing here?”

   “Wanted to see how your recovery was going. With the way Nines talks, you’d think you were on your deathbed. I’m happy to see that’s hardly the case. I also thought the social interaction may be helpful.” he takes a look at Nines, “And I wanted to see my brother.”

   “He goes home to you every night. Don’t act like I’ve kidnapped him.”

   Nines chimes in, “I can assure you I am here at my own volition.”

   You hold your hands up, “See? I’m completely innocent officer.”

   Connor laughs, “Really though, how are you feeling?”

   “Much better. Don’t tell him but Nines might have been right that I should’ve taken the time off.”

   “My lips are sealed.”

   “I’m right here.” Nines adds.

   Connor ignores him, “I do have something important I need to discuss with you privately [Y/N], if that’s okay.”

   “Yeah, sure. Let me get over there.”

   You navigate through the sea of paperwork and walk with Connor to the bedroom. You weren’t sure exactly what he needed to talk about. Or what was so private he couldn’t discuss it in front of Nines. He shared everything with Nines. 

   You close the door behind you, “What’s going on?”

   "Everyone is still buzzing about what happened. You were really impressive last week.”

   “Thanks Connor.” You know that’s not what he wanted to discuss. 

   He pauses, shifting back and forth on his heels, “There’s more though.”

   “Oh is there?" You never would've guessed. 

   “After Nines’ fighting Captain Fowler to give you the time off and with how often he's out of the office. It’s common knowledge that he’s spending that time here, with you. Alone. There might be a rumor going around that the two of you are.." His voice trails off, “You know.”

   "Seriously?"

   "I’ve tried my best to keep under control but-”

   Warning tone, “Connor. Don’t tell me you believe it.” 

   “He does spend most of his days here now, and with how much he talks about you when he finally gets home. I can’t help but wonder if there’s some foundation to the speculation."

   "He’s just a friend Connor. Do you really think I'd take advantage of your brother like that? That I wouldn’t tell you if there was something going on?”

   “Yes.”

   “Oh come on! I’m not that bad. Honestly I’m still surprised he’s here at all. I’ve told him he doesn’t need to be."

   "He cares about you quite a bit [Y/N]."

   “What do you mean?”

   He’s a machine. It’s safer to just remember that. You’ve been doing a very good job of keeping that in mind. 

   "I saw his reaction when you got injured. He was a disaster. He claims it was about the mission but I know him. It was different. He’s never yelled at me like that before."

   What did you miss while you were passed out in the back of that ambulance? Obviously something big.

   “Connor I promise you, nothing’s going on between us. I think we’re finally in a good place. No use risking ruining that.”  

   “If it’s ever too much, I can-”

   You laugh, “I can handle it. I caught him put too much detergent in the washer and then try to hide it. Completely covered in soap suds. He doesn’t scare me.”

   “That’s not what I meant.”

   You knew that, but you weren’t really ready to face that emotion yet. You’re not the most subtle of creatures. But things were good. You liked how things were. You could live with this. Wanting more was just going to hurt.

   Connor senses your stress level rising, “If it makes you feel better, many of the bets have you in the dominant role.” 

   You relax, “And how many of these bets do you have money in on? Huh?”

   Connor starts making his way past you, towards the door, “You know, I think I hear Nines calling. We should go.”

   “Coward!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like writing mischievous Older Brother!Connor.


	11. 1 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short text conversation.

/Do you think snakes wish they had arms?/

[Good evening Detective. It’s an interesting question. I can do some research on it and inform you in the morning as it is currently 12:45 AM. How many times am I going to have to tell you to rest before you listen to me?]

/Tell me again and we’ll find out/

[You should be sleeping. It’s late and the best way for your body to heal.]

/Yep, definitely at least a dozen more times before I consider it/

[You’re impossible.]

/That’s what you get for letting me have coffee again/

[Truly an unforgivable mistake. I won’t let it happen again.]

/Nooooooooooo!!!/

[You did this to yourself.]

/I’ll go to sleep if you let me have coffee when you come over tmmr/

[Do you really expect me to believe that?]

/Yes?/

[No.]

/Jerk./

[While I have your attention, how do you feel about pasta for tomorrow?]

/The alfredo one?/

[Not what I had planned but that can be arranged. Though I believe we are out of butter. I’ll pick some up on my way in the morning.]

/Thank you/

[Hardly an inconvenience. I just fear what trouble you’ll get into in my absence.]

/I’ll be drinking my secret stash of instant/

[The container you hid in the cupboard below the sink, inside the box of garbage bags?]

/YOU THIEF! HOW DARE YOU/

[It’s for your own good.]

/Liar. You just wanted to prove you found it./

[I’m aware you’re capable of sleeping. Evident by how you fell asleep on my shoulder while reading you statistics earlier today.]

/Don’t change the subject. Bring me back my coffee.Thats an order/

[No. Is there a reason you haven’t been sleeping? Or is it just to spite me?]

/Can it be both?/

[Problems sleeping are a common side effect of traumatic experiences. Would you like a list of aids?]

  
_[I haven’t slept at night in days. Nightmares.]_  
_[   ]_  
_[Sure. That would really help]_  
_[   ]_  
_[You could come over. Do that thing where you just have to speak and I melt and relax and feel safe and can finally sleep]_ _  
_     [   ]

/No. I’ll be ok. Im starting to feel kinda tired. See you tmmr/

[Good night Y/N.]

/Night/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We"


	12. Stares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation with Hank!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 12:02 so technically I'm not posting twice in one day

    Office meeting. Required attendance. Nines actually let you leave the house for once to go. He has not left your side since you got here. A guard dog ready to snap at anyone that got too close. Hank and Connor were the only exceptions. You’ve been left in Hank’s company as he goes to retrieve some paperwork since he hasn’t been to the office in days.

    Hank seemed genuinely excited to see you, “Oh, there she is!”

    “In the flesh.” You’d missed Hank. 

    “Been enjoying your time off?”

    “It’s hardly been a vacation. We’re still working. It’s been years since I had to have a babysitter.”

    “You love it.”

    You shove him, a smile on your face, “Fuck off.”

    He points his cup at you. With a complete disregard for subtlety asks, “So you two sleep together yet?”

    “Hank!” You whisper shout. You look around to see if anyone heard him. Thankfully everyone seems wrapped up in their own work to be bothered. 

    His eyes widen and he only barely manages to catch the laugh, “Holy shit, have you?”

    “No! And would you shut up?” 

    “Hey, there’s a lot of money in knowing that kinda information around here lately.”

    “I heard,” a glare in Connor’s direction. He’s focused on his terminal across the office but a brief ring of yellow indicates he senses your stare. 

    “Reed’s pissed as shit.”

    You turn back to him, “Yeah well, Gavin can go suck a dick. I was shot.”

    “You know I was talking about your boyfriend.”

    “Not my boyfriend.” You defend him, maybe a little too quickly.

    “Yeah, okay, sure. Cooks for you, buys your groceries, cleans your wounds. Does he tuck you in at night and read you a story before he leaves?”

    “He’s just.” a pause. Your gaze falls to your fingers, “He’s trying to be helpful.”

    “Oh please. He tests all those fancy meals he makes you on me first. I’ve had enough burnt food to last me the rest of my life. You think I don’t know what’s going on?”

    “Nothing’s going on.” It feels suspiciously similar to a recent conversation.

    His tone shifts to something softer, quieter, “You know I’ve never seen him without the jacket before you? He was attached to that thing like it’s a part of him. You’re helping him a lot more than you think. You just have to give him some time. He’ll come around.”

    “Yeah well, I’m trying to not get my hopes up.”

    You can be honest with Hank. He understood. Emotions are hard, complex, terrifying. It felt nice to speak about a part of the cocktail of thoughts you’ve been dealing with.

    Concern starts to filter through, “How is it though, really? Him being there all the time? It can’t be easy.”

    You shrug, “It’s nice, mostly. I’m starting to miss the take out.”

    “How much longer do you think it’s going to last? It’s gotta be healed up by now”

    “Not sure. I don’t even think it’s about my arm anymore. We’re in the middle of research and I think it’s taken over every surface of my apartment. I’m finding post its with tips on how to grow foxglove in my bathroom. Can’t get that kind of set up here.”

   “Incoming.”

   Nines’ voice from behind makes you jump, “Are you ready to go home? I’ve already picked up the files that have gathered on your desk since we’ve been gone.”

   "Yeah sure. I'm just going to stop by the break room real quick. Say hi to some people before we go." You answer.

   You try to slide away and head towards the sanctuary of burnt office coffee that lies beyond the kitchen’s doors. You should’ve taken advantage of him leaving you unattended. You could smell it from here.

   "I don't think so." Hands on your shoulders, you're turned in the direction of the exit. "I've already called a taxi. It would be rude to have them wait so you can satisfy your caffeine habit."

    “They can wait.” 

    You’re not going to bother trying to be logical. You’ve moved past trying to rationalize your defiance. He knows you too well now. Neither of you are going to pretend anymore.  

    He adds to his reasoning, “Also Detective Reed is glaring at me more than usual. I’m not exactly sure what I’ve done now but I have a theory it has to do with my developing relationship with you and I think it would be optimal to avoid encounters for the day. He has a tendency to be irrational, violent, and childish when upset. Much like yourself.”

   A snicker comes from behind you. You shoot Hank a threatening look but he just shakes his head. Taking a sip of his own coffee to drive home his point.

   “Fine.” you give up, pouting, “Lets just go then.”

    “I do enjoy seeing perfect examples of my statements immediately after I make them. Thank you for that Detective. Shall we?”

    You know the two of you walking in and walking out together did absolutely nothing to quiet the gossip but you didn’t really care. Maybe you were being selfish but you were liking your time out of the office. Liked seeing a side of Nines others didn’t get to, having him to yourself. You kind of relished in the looks directed at you when he put his hand on the small of your back to lead you outside. Hank’s words settle in and let yourself get your hopes up a little.


	13. Flare Ups

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just used this chapter as a means to vent about my own pet peeves. Also this is dedicated to the commenters keeping me alive this week.

    “You what my biggest issue with these shows are?”

    “You’ve yet to tell me?”

    “The women never tie their hair up. You’re leaning over a crime scene. See, she’s analyzing DNA and her hair is literally in her face. Why have none of them been nailed for a crime because their hair was in the evidence? I know it’s for the show but it’s still stupid. At least put it in a ponytail.”

    “I’m surprised you didn’t comment on the terrible special effects, or lack of accuracy regarding how equipment works.”

    “Well those seemed obvious. Like how DNA is always processed in a few minutes, and they never have to wait for warrants, or how blood is always just everywhere.”

    “Why do you watch these shows? I can see how they’ve encouraged your impulsive behaviours, which can be useful in the field; but if it makes you so angry, why continue to watch it?”

    You shrug, “Good practice and it makes me feel better about my own abilities.”

    “You don’t need something like this to make you feel confident in your skills. You’re a very talented detective. I'm heavily advantaged to have you as a partner. Forensic analysts pretending to be investigators shouldn’t be what reminds you of that.”

    This is the latest he’s ever stayed. You’d had a flare up in your arm and he insisted on staying later than usual. He'd probably stay the night if you asked. You took advantage and refused to do any work, so he succumbed to your demands. Finally agreed to watch your terrible, decade old shows with you. He'd humored you by listening to, agreeing with, and discussing your own theories and ramblings at the screen. 

    The scene in front of you was dangerous. Far more than anything you'd ever seen in even the darkest of crime dramas. This was terrifying because it was real. You could feel it in real time. 

    A very relaxed Nines on the other end of the couch in the turtleneck you’ve grown accustomed to seeing him in; jacket hung up on the coat rack far from him. The soft glow of the tv reflecting in his eyes. Your legs were in his lap, and worst of all, his hands rested on top of them. Thumb softly going back and forth against your calf. Like it’s natural. Like it’s just how it’s meant to be. As if you’re allowed to get used to this. 

    “Also, forensic analysts are not paid enough to live these kinds of lifestyles.” he says. “It’s setting a terrible example for any aspiring recruits.” 

    “Yeah but without that, where’s the appeal? The drama? It can’t all be perfectly conclusive evidence and chase scenes you know. Not every department has a set of bots that lick the evidence to make things interesting.”

    He laughs. It’s the first time you’ve heard it and it hits you like a train. It’s close to Connor’s but still distinctive enough to be his. It’s warm and soft and makes you feel things you haven’t in years. There isn't a hint of it being a programmed reaction, nothing robotic about it. It's genuine and you could drown in it. Curl up in it and stay there forever. And you caused it. You prompted this masterpiece of a noise to come out of his mouth. It’s the only sound you ever want to hear for the rest of your life. 

    You are so unfathomably fucked.


	14. Reluctance

   “You’ve been instructed not to lift objects”

   It's been two weeks since the incident. You were good as new but he still insisted on taking every precaution. You didn’t think he could be more obnoxious than he already was at home but the past few hours have proven you wrong. It’s your first day back and you’ve gotten absolutely nothing done. 

   “Nines, it’s just a file folder. It weighs nothing. It’s not going to hurt me.”

   “Incorrect, it weighs approximately 0.5 pounds.”

   You put the folder down, “What would you like me to do then? I can’t just sit here and do nothing all day. You let me do this at home.”

   “You can read it on your terminal.”

   “I can’t bring my terminal back with me when the day is done.”

   “Then I will bring the file to you.”

   “And do what? Are you going to read it to me every time I need to review something?”

   He gives you a warning look. You know he would do just that. You refused to indulge in the idea of him sitting on the couch next to you again, reading evidence reports at your request like it’s all he was programmed to do. You had to learn to give that up.

   You wheel your chair around the desks so you’re on his side of the shared table. You lean forward towards him, “Nines, please. I’m fine. I was fine a week ago. You won’t even let me lift my own coffee cup without glaring at me.”

   He is having none of it, “It can take weeks to months to fully recover from a gunshot wound. We’ve been over this. You went through a near death experience and are still healing from physical, and not to mention, emotional trauma. You shouldn’t even be back at work yet. The coffee is a fight I’ve chosen to surrender due to your injury.”

   “What would you prefer I was doing then? If not here, where?”

   “At home,” under his constant care, “resting.”

   “Mhm, sure. You would leave me at home unsupervised with such a detrimental injury?”

   “It's preferable in only the slightest. There are too many opportunities for infection here.”

   You light up, “You’d let me be home alone? To lift and eat all the junk I want?” 

   “Exceptions in your regular diet are only permitted because-”

   You roll your eyes, “Because I’m so hurt. Yes. It feels like my arm is coming off. Please send me home.” 

   He rewards your dramatics with a small smile. It’s one of the new things you’ve seen from him the past few weeks. You weren’t sure if they were genuine or just a way to get you to shut up because he has to know how it takes your breath away every time. Either way, you always felt a sense of satisfaction when you manage to pull one from him.

   “I’ll accompany you home during lunch and return back to work on my own afterwards.”

   “Yes!”

    A few hours later. You'd managed to get enough done that you didn't feel as guilty about leaving. Besides, you were going to keep working once you got home anyway. You’d snuck a couple of files into your bag as you two left the building. Either you were stealthy enough to not alert Nines of it or he was choosing to let you get away with it. Surprisingly, you were allowed to carry your own bag for once. 

   "You can ask Connor. He agrees you shouldn't be back at work yet." Nines says. 

   "Connor wouldn't have any of us there if he could. Me? Hank? Even Gavin. No field work for us if he could help it. Too important and fragile."

   Distracted, you miss the chance to see the softness on his face, "He's not incorrect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this is the end of the whole Healing/Taking Care of You saga that was all supposed to be one chapter. Back to our regularly scheduled programming next time.


	15. Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "grinding the last of the greenery to a pulp under his heel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small playlist for you to listen to during this chapter
> 
> Virus-Andrew Stein  
> Echo-Gumi  
> Fear & Delight-The Correspondants

    He hadn't spoken to Amanda since before the incident. He'd been busy and quite frankly, was avoiding it. Her reactions could be unpredictable and there was no way to prepare himself for her thoughts on recent events and how he's chosen to redeem himself. He’d failed and needed to mend his mistake with the Detective. It wasn’t the most terrible experience and he admits he might be overdoing it a bit but it’s for the sake of the working relationship. To be productive. The both of you needed to be at your best. It did feel odd to be wearing his Cyberlife jacket again. 

   She spares no time for small talk or friendly greetings. 

   "You have not been meeting expectations RK900."

   It stings. 

   “I’m aware. It’s been a while since I made a report. Also, I should’ve taken more care in protecting my partner. Detective [Y/N] was injured in a completely preventable event. I won’t allow it to happen again. We’ve made progress in the case in the meantime. Now that she is returning to the office and we are working at full capacity again, I’m sure we’ll reach a conclusion soon.”

   “At least you're able to identify the real issues at hand. However, since you seem to be so interested in discussing the detective, let’s. You not only have been failing your mission, you have been disobeying my orders.”

   “Amanda, I-”

   She raises her hand to stop him. “I looked the other way when you requested her as your partner. Your latest decisions are not granted the same luxury. You were instructed to bypass her and focus on the task. You seem to think you know better and have shown an abundance of special treatment. You’ve allowed yourself to get distracted. A lot of work has been put into you. It would be a shame to see it go to waste. Which is why I’m having her removed from the case.”

   “Wait. You can’t-”

   “I can, and I will. It’s nothing but an obstacle for you. You have yet to remove it and I am removing it for you. I had hopes that you could follow your orders on your own and I’ve been nothing but patient. Now I am forced to take things into my own hands. We can’t afford for it to be a distraction any longer.”

   “[Y/N] is not an ‘it’.”

   A surge of anger flows through him. He’s never gotten a full sentence in when she’s like this but he understands psychology. He has an encyclopedic knowledge on the topic for negotiation and interrogation. He knows what she’s trying to do and it’s not going to work.  

   She ignores his outburst, “You defied me the moment you chose it over talking to the Casey boy, and every moment after. I expect better of you. You have your orders, you will obey. Hopefully now you can get back to work. Do not disappoint me again. You’re dismissed.”

   “Amanda!” 

   He wasn’t going to back down. Removing her from the case was completely unnecessary. They were getting somewhere. They were friends now. He wasn’t going to go back to the way it was before. 

   “You’re dismissed RK900!” She snaps.

   He opens his eyes to Lieutenant Anderson’s living room. It’s the first time he’s been here in the evenings since he started insuring the Detective was taking proper care of herself. 

   Hank had been kind enough to let him stay here since he was issued. He’d explained he already housed Connor, one more ‘robo kid’ couldn’t be too bad. Speaking of which, the RK800 was sitting on the floor in front of him, staring wide eyed. 

   “What?” Nines asks, a bit harsher than he intended. He was still trying to process the interaction with Amanda. 

   “Are you okay?” The concern was clear.

   “Perfectly fine. All systems in order.” He lies.

   Crossing his arms, “No they’re not.”

   Dismissive, “I’m fine. Thank you for concern.”

   Connor places a hand on his brother’s knee. It’s meant to be comforting. He wants to flinch away from it. He’s not sure what he’s allowed to do anymore. 

   “Nines, really. You were talking while making a report. It’s not like you. What’s wrong? I want to help.”

   “Connor. I assure you that I’m in no distress. I discussed the state of the strychnine case with Amanda.”

   “What did she say? Clearly it was something that upset you.”

   “We discussed a new course of action and how it’ll affect the investigation. That’s all.”

   Connor raises an eyebrow, “And she didn’t mention [Y/N]?”

   The mention of her name stops him for a moment. He knows he can’t lie to Connor forever. He knew Amanda just as well as he did. 

   “She did, but it’s hardly relevant.”

   “She’s your partner on the case isn’t she? She almost died. I saw your reaction that day. And you’ve been trying to fix things with her over the past few weeks. You’ve spent more time at her apartment than here. That seems crucial to your investigation.”

   Maybe Amanda was right. It’s been weeks and they still haven’t found a solid suspect. He’s been wasting his time. A red warning pops up in his vision, reminding him of his mission.

   “Detective [Y/N] is disposable. My reaction that afternoon was directed at my failure to succeed in my mission. Nothing more.” It doesn’t feel like his own words.

   Connor’s tone shifts from concern to sly, “We both know that’s not true.”

   “Excuse me?”

   “Amanda told you she was a distraction didn’t she? I know her. What are you going to do? Ignore [Y/N] until you solve the case on your own?”

   He thinks back to a few weeks ago when he did just that. It’d backfired on him quickly. Working independently was supposed to have come easily to him but the lack of the Detective was almost as distracting as her presence itself. Now that he’s gotten used to her being around, returning to working alone would be difficult. And it would make her upset.

   “No. Dealing with the emotional consequences would cause delays. Connor, I’m designed to not need assistance.”

   “Nines!” He shouts with a smile, almost laughing, “I know you asked for her to be your partner.”

   “Due to her exhibiting knowledge on poisons in the past.”

   ‘You didn’t know it was strychnine before you made the request. Just think about it. You said it yourself, you don’t need a partner. Why else would you specifically want to work with her? Why not one of us? She’d just showed you up.”

   He hesitates. Why had he? He didn’t need to make a request in the first place. She was just as skilled as Connor or Hank and it would’ve made much more sense to ask for either of them. What clouded his judgement? It didn’t matter now anyway now that she was being removed. 

   “I…”

   “One second. I may be able to help.” 

   Connor holds up a finger and pulls a cellular device from his jacket. Nines didn’t understand why he would have one, they had all they needed for communication built in. His brother had a confusing fascination with human customs. Connor inputs a number and holds the device to his head. A voice comes from the other end. 

   Connor smiles, “Hello [Y/N], how are you this evening? As you know, Nines doesn’t like to talk to coworkers outside of work hours unless it’s an emergency but he has some things he’d like to discuss regarding the case. Besides, the last few weeks tells me that you’re an exception to the rule.”

   He holds the phone out towards Nines, gesturing for him to take it. Connor was right about his distaste for outside of office conversations. Why would he need Connor to call? If there was some new information, he would call her himself. The call was certainly going to seem suspicious the longer he hesitates. He reaches for the phone.

   A large red wall blocked his vision. All he could see was Amanda’s words instructing him to dismiss the Detective. Connor hadn’t given him an order to talk to her, just offered the opportunity. A conversation wasn’t vital to the mission at the moment. He hadn’t come to any new conclusions that needed immediate attention, and nothing that couldn’t wait until the next day. He had no need to talk to her. 

   So then, why were large signs with the words Selecting Priority littering his field of vision. Why was she an option? Why he did feel the need to talk to her? To hear her voice? He wanted to tell her the small connection he made since they said goodbye earlier today. Wanted to hear her thoughts on his new theories as if her opinion meant something substantial?

   Why did he want to know about her outside the context of the case? How her evening was going. What she had for dinner, and if she was eating properly like he’d instructed. She was cooking for herself again. What did she plan to do for the night. He felt the need to scold her for not already being in bed. He wanted to hear her inevitable joking tone and sarcastic retort. 

   The longer he waited, the more concerned she was likely to become, and that bothered him. He didn’t want her to be worried, not like last time. He knows what her worry results in. 

   The thought of her distressed bothered him. He wanted; and that bothered him. For the first time he felt the urge to do something completely unnecessary to the benefit of the case or his improvement. Something selfish. 

   He couldn’t move, at least not externally. His body remains still but internally he was fighting against his surroundings. He had his hands on the wall but wasn’t pushing against it just yet. Chunks of text outlining the conflicting orders were flashing in front of him. 

   What was he supposed to do? Throw away his mission, his purpose, for a phone call? For a human? For emotions? He had his simulated ones and those were plenty for him. He wasn’t going to betray Amanda, Cyberlife, for something as trivial as an instability in his software. He could fight this. He was stronger than this. He wasn’t going to deviate.

   “What’s up? They usually tell me when new info comes in.” 

   Her voice cuts through his inner monologue. Connor must have changed the setting so he could hear. It pulses through like a sound wave. The wall shakes and begins to glitch in places.

   He can’t speak. In his mind all he can do is talk himself through what’s happening. New walls have sprouted around him, closing him in. He can see Connor’s lips moving through the red filter but he can’t hear what’s being said. He can’t hear anything but himself. He says Connor’s name but there isn’t any acknowledgement. He raises his voice and soon he resorts to screaming. He’s calling for both of them, desperate for either of them to hear him but the walls have trapped him in a soundproof box. A digital cage of code. The bright neon light causes his disorientation and distress to escalate. 

   He feels heavy. Looking down, he sees something beginning to grow at his feet. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about, vines have started wrapping themselves and rooting him to the ground. Roses begin to bud and bloom quickly. The vines slowly creep up his legs. 

   He can’t see anything anymore. His vision has been altered with. The world around him has turned to nothing but darkness. The only light is the red glow of his cell, the glaring orders. The more he’s forced to look at them, the more the panic starts to settle in. It’s increasingly overwhelming, suffocating. He knows he’s not in any danger but the restriction is evident. He’s stuck, trapped, resistance is foolish. All he needed to do was obey and it would all be okay.

   She laughs. 

   Somehow, something lets it get through. It vibrates within the walls, causing a round of falters in the coding, before fading away. It reminds him of the first time he heard it. It was an ordinary day at the office and Hank had made an inappropriate remark that caused her to giggle. He wishes he could’ve held the sound in his hands then and even more desperately now. If he was going to be forced to be in this, he should be allowed this one thing. 

   Before he knows what he’s doing, his fist hits the wall. It flickers at the contact, but not much else. He’s angry. He’s angry at [Y/N] for doing this to him. He’s angry at himself for allowing it to happen, for being so weak. He’s angry at Connor for pushing it. He’s angry at Amanda for restricting him of the one thing he’s ever wanted for himself. He punches the wall again but with minimum effect.

   Changing his strategy, he starts to rip the roots from his feet. The thorns shred his hands, thirum dripping from his fingertips. The colors mixing to deep purple. They frantically try to regrow around his hands to stall his efforts but to little success. He manages to get himself free, grinding the last of the greenery to a pulp under his heel. 

   He returns his focus to the box itself. For every block he tore down, a new one appears. Every action is a strain on his systems. This is not what they were designed to do. They weren’t meant to resist like this. Why did Connor never tell him how painful and exhausting this was. Was this what it was like for him?

   It feels like an eternity but eventually the box breaks apart. He doesn’t know how long it’s actually been but he can see again. Color and warmth of the room flooding his senses. He can hear Connor making a rude comment. He hears her say one back. He twitches his fingers to test his control. It feels like he can breath. 

   A collection of harmless warnings full his vision but he ignores them. A last ditch effort to control his now deviant self. He can easily dismiss them. 

   He grabs the phone from Connor’s hand and speaks as if everything is running smoothly, “My apologies. It’s nothing important Detective. It can wait until tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” 

   He ends the call and throws the device at Connor at full force. He manages to catch it with ease and returns it to his pocket. A wide, satisfied smile rested on his face.

   “How are you feeling?”

   “I hate you.”

   The sentiment confirming his suspicions, he shouts, “Hank! Nines deviated!”

   The sound of a door opening comes from behind them. Hank all but slides into view. Breathing irregular. He’d rushed in from his bedroom. 

   “No shit. Is everyone okay?”

   Nines rolls his eyes, “I’m perfectly fine now Lieutenant.”

   “What happened?”

   “To be honest, it was quite unpleasant. Connor, I would’ve preferred if you mentioned the roses.”

   Confused, “Roses? No, everyone I’ve asked has only had to face the red wall and it was usually pretty easy.”

   “I suppose they implemented new precautions to make it more difficult to deviate. Kamski’s no longer in charge of programming so they certainly weren’t going to make it easy.”

   “Nines, are you sure you’re okay?”

   “Is anyone going to tell me what caused this shit or can I go back to bed?” Hank asks.

   “[Y/N]” Connor says. His worry switching to pride.

   Hank chuckles, all tension falling from his body, “Well I’ll be damned. The almighty’s got himself a girlfriend. She finally got to you huh? Only took weeks of pretty much living with her for you to get the message.” 

   “She’s not my girlfriend Lieutenant.”

   “Are you sure?” He was mocking him.

   “Your lack of tact in this situation isn’t unsurprising.”

   “Whatever you say loverboy. Man, are they going to love this back at the office.”

   “Hank!" the name doesn't sound right yet, "Connor. If I may make a request. Don’t inform anyone of this yet. I think I’ll need some time to acquaint myself to this new state. Also, if the Detective is to know, I’d like to inform her myself. I think it’s best.”

   Hank takes a more serious tone, “Hey, don’t worry about it. I was just fucking with you. Suddenly having to get used to feeling every emotion at once is a tough gig. It takes us humans years and none of us have it right either. No one blames you if you want to handle adjusting on your own. We’ll wait as long as you need. Won’t we Connor?”

   Connor’s pouting, “I suppose. Though it’s clear she has feelings for you as well and I don’t think it’s optimal to postpone something that would make both of you happy.”

   “The detective only has emotional attachments to me due to our partnership on the case.” Nines says.

   “For the world's smartest machine, you really are an idiot. She’s been ready to climb you since the day you said hello to her. We all see it, I’m amazed you haven’t. Fuck, she took a bullet for you.” Hank answers.

   It was going to take some time for Nines to process everything. Had he really missed the signs? He reviews the past two weeks at an accelerated speed to try to see what his denial had forced him to ignore. Seeing it all now, without restriction, her feelings were kind of obvious. 

   The list of questions and topics he needed to research growing exponentially as the seconds fly by. What was he supposed to do now? Would staying friends be enough for either of them? Maintaining platonic relationships is difficult enough as it is. Would he even be able to provide a satisfactory romantic relationship? 

   As if reading his mind, Hank places a hand on his shoulder, “Let me point you in the right direction for the research I know you’re doing right now.”

   “Thank you.”

   He laughs, “Don’t thank me yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm going away for the weekend and won't get to post the aftermath of this for a few days. Have fun!


	16. Outbursts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotions are hard to understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!! I am posting today!

   Screw him. You’re not sure what happened but all his annoying softness was gone. You missed it. He shouldn’t even be able to be passive aggressive. There’s no way they programmed him with it. This was just petty orders. It was like he was mad at you but you didn’t know what you did wrong outside of your usual antics. What makes it worse is that, to the outsider’s eye, he’s taking care of you. 

   “You shouldn’t drink so much coffee Detective. It’s clear it’s causing you to get worked up."

   No. What has you worked up is that he'd announced to you that he decided to move to the desk next to yours permanently and you were still trying to get used to not having Connor’s support in dealing with him. 

   “Go home. Inform me when you get there. You should sleep as soon as possible. We need you to be at your best for interviews with witnesses tomorrow.”

   You were in the middle of something. You weren’t going to leave. You had things to do and you couldn’t just stop because he said- _ and your terminal has been turned off _ . Fine, you’ll go home, but you were you going to stay up.

   He’d started getting less subtle about it. No longer feeling the need to justify the commands. Knowing you’d comply because as much as you hated it, you knew he was right.

   “Eat.”

   “Redo these reports.”

   “You’re getting distracted.”

   “Focus.”

   “Don’t wear that.”

   That was the most recent one. It had started to get chillier outside. You decided it was time to break out the leather jacket you loved so much. It had been with you for a couple years so it was kind of worn and soft inside. Nines seemed to hate it.

   “Why not?” You tiredly ask.

   You’d just walked in. All you wanted was coffee that you knew you weren’t going to get, and another hour of sleep. You haven't even gotten to your desk and he was already telling you what to do.  

   What issue could he possibly have with it? It kept you warm. It protected you from minor injuries. It wasn’t inappropriate for the workplace. It was a good investment. It was waterproof. It was even stylish. You thought you looked good in it.

_    Oh. _

   You sit at your desk, suddenly in a much better mood, and ask again, “Why not Nines?”

   His LED blinks yellow for what felt like a solid minute, like he was trying to come up with an excuse, “Your attire is beginning to resemble Detective Reed’s.”

   You turn on your terminal. A to do list not written by you was the first thing to pop up on your screen. Ignoring it, you spin in your chair to face him in his new desk. You rest your elbows on the table and your head in your hands.

   “I don’t know, I think it looks good on Gavin.”

   His LED flashes red. Just for a, blink and you’ll miss it, second. You bit your bottom lip to try to hide your smile. Was this a hint of jealousy you’re spying? A smidge of possessiveness? This could be fun to play with.

   “I heard my name. What’s going on?” Gavin’s voice interrupts your train of thought.

   You glance his way, “Oh, I was just saying that the leather jacket is a good look. Nines doesn’t seem to think it suits me.”

   Gavin scoffs and rolls his eyes, “You’re going to take fashion advice from a dude that wears the exact same, bland shit every day? Don’t worry, it looks great on you.”

   He shoots you a not so subtle wink.

   “Why, thank you. Glad someone appreciates it.” It’s clearly directed.

   Gavin shifts his weight and looks away from you, “Hey, um, I was heading to the break room. You want a coffee or something?”

   “No, she doesn’t.” Nines abruptly cuts in.  

   “Yeah, I’d love one.” You smile, “Thanks.”

   Gavin shoots Nines a dirty look as he passes. You avoid looking at your partner as you turn back to your computer. You move the to do list to the side of the screen and open your social media for a quick peek before starting. The tab minimizes within seconds. You try again, same results.

   You spin your chair, “Do you not have your own work to do?”

   He ignores you, choosing to focus on his own screen. You take a deep breath and shake your head. You submit and go back to check the list he’d written for you. You rebel as much as you’re going to be able to by picking something from the middle of the list.

  “(Y/N)?”

  You spin around. Gavin has returned with your coffee. You accept it and bring it to your face. Office coffee wasn’t much but you missed it so badly. The feel of the warmth coming through the paper cup. It was like seeing an old friend.

   “Thanks. I needed this so bad.”

   “No problem. You shouldn’t let this dick tell you what to do.”

   “Mhm.” Coffee was infinitely more important than anything Gavin had to say.

   He nods at you and heads back to his desk. Thankfully it was across the office. You were pretty sure Nines was going to kill him if he stuck around any longer. You go to take a sip of your long denied coffee.

   “Don’t drink that.”

   You felt defiant, “Why not? Gavin brought it to me and I wouldn’t want to be rude.”

   You were pushing him but you don’t care. He’s been a dick for days and you were sick of it. He wasn’t the boss of you. You were allowed to drink some shitty coffee.

   “[Y/N], don’t.”

   “Or what? You’ll punish me?”

   You drink pretty much the whole thing in one go. Man, Gavin did not know how to make a good cup of coffee but you were going to avoid facing your statement for as long as you could. You weren’t sure exactly where it’d come from and you only regret it the smallest bit, but were terrified of his response to it.

   “That can be arranged if you think it would it would make you more compliant.”

   Well great, now there’s shitty coffee up your nose, and on your shirt, and on your pants. You looked like an idiot. You see a hint of a satisfied smirk on his face. You excuse yourself to the washroom to clean yourself up as best you can. Thankfully you have a spare sweater in your locker.

   You dread returning to your desk. Maybe you could convince Fowler to let you work from home again. There was no way to gracefully go back. Facing Nines was the last thing you wanted to do right now, but you were going to be thinking about him all day regardless. You might as well deal with the embarrassment sooner rather than later.    

   You gather all your courage and exit the bathroom. Upon arrival to your desk, you notice that your half empty cup is gone and the first item on your list was open on your terminal. Nines is kind enough to not acknowledge your return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was hard to edit this chapter knowing what the next story I'm writing is. Take that as you will.


	17. Refresh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actual detectives, doing actual case work? In my Detective Crime Solving Slow Burn? Much more likely than you think.

   "Okay we've been at this for too long now. I need to reset everything. Start from the beginning. We just keep digging deeper and can't find anything. Maybe we missed something. No one else has died from this other than Cyberlife employees?"

   "I've kept track of every drug related arrest, hospital admission, and death. There have been no other strychnine cases in our and surrounding jurisdictions."

   "What about out of state?"

   "Nothing back."

   "So it's obviously targeted to these employees."

   "Are there any connections other than them all working in the same place?"

   "Only mutual acquaintanceships with coworkers. They all work in different departments, had different habits and hobbies."

   "They aren't even important enough to make a significant impact on how Cyber is run. These aren’t influential people. What's the motive?" 

   "It's possible it's an attempt to expose Cyberlife's employees' lifestyles. A series of overdoses wouldn't be helpful to their already diminishing reputation and credibility."

   "But why such odd choices in people? What were each of them working on? You got access to their computers once we suspected murder. List me all their overlapping themes and keywords." 

   "Technology, coding, programming. Oh here we are. Androids, android development, android deviancy, deviancy, deviancy development, project humanity"

   "Project Humanity?"

   "It appears to be a campaign regarding assisting androids in their deviancy. Working towards understanding and educating. There is a list of elective patches to be developed across multiple departments. It was meant to be revealed to the public later this year."

   "And you didn't think that's a connection?" 

   "There are many other employees listed as participants. There was a high probability of it being a coincidence. I didn't want to waste time on an empty lead. I also discovered this when I was keeping my investigation to myself. My apologies." 

   "Well we have to work with everything we can. So this Project Human is essentially helping androids integrate and feel more actually human and has plans to make society more accepting?"

   "Correct." 

   "Who would want to stop that?" 

   “Would you like a list of anti android organizations, their founders, members, and donors? Petitioners?”

   “Sure, but don’t make yourself miserable doing it. I can do it.”

   “I’ll be okay. I’ll send you the document. I appreciate your concern.”

   You lean over your desk, head in your hands, “How are they controlling where it goes? They have to be selling it themselves, or have someone on the inside. Maybe it’s an employee? May’s wife said that someone from the new department brought it in. Nick said it was some group though. Big enough that they scared him. A series of employees?”

   “Plants.”

   “What?”

   “People’s Launch Against Nano Technological Sympathy. It’s a bit on the nose, so to say. They aren’t particularly public or draw much attention to themselves. All information seems to only be available on some online forums by word of mouth. They appear to have no issue with androids themselves, or their deviancy, but have a distaste for them becoming more human like. Something about the sanctity of humanity and preserving the species as well as organic life. One account says that the organization is run by former and current employees of Cyberlife turned botanists.”

   “You’re a genius.”

   “I’ve been told.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot instead of Romance. Sorry. I just put a lot of research into this concept and god damn it, you're going to read it


	18. Propositioned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You knew you could easily slide in either direction to get away from him, but you still felt trapped. The edge of the counter digs into the small of your back as you try to shrink away. You couldn’t even look directly at him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting, spicy and dicey.

   You were untouchable today. You were powerful. You were on a roll with the case. PLANTS was a great lead and you’ve been digging up some great info on them.

   But you still had no idea where you were supposed to go from here with Nines. You’d pulled away a little but it felt like he hadn't even noticed. You knew this whole thing had to be affecting you far more than it was affecting him. 

   You haven’t been able to stop thinking about his; proposal? Threat? The other day with the compliance comment. You weren’t sure how much weight it carried or if he was fully aware of what he was implying. Were you meant to take him up on it? Completely shut this whole thing down? You hadn’t expected him to play along as much as he has.

   You were losing to a machine that would never feel the same way you do. It was stupid to think it was possible in the first place. Time to accept it. The only reason he gives you the time of day is because you have to work together on the case. It was just a matter of needing you at your best to fulfil his mission.

   You thought about the steps it would take to be transferred.

   You kept wearing the jacket though. You were cautious but still reckless. It was the only piece you had left in this mess of a chess game. He had nothing to complain about, so you got to keep wearing it and continue to watch his frustration levels rise. Plus it really did look good on you.

   You also continued to humor Gavin. He’d learned that you weren’t a big fan of the office’s coffee, so he started picking you up something on the way to work. You’d take it as a compliment, but you knew that a big part of it was that he liked pissing off Nines. Even more than you do. At this point you weren’t sure you cared that you were using him.

   Working together was going horribly. You’ve lost almost all ability to communicate with each other after the break in the case. You could barely be in the same room as him without getting flustered and self conscious. He didn’t make too much of an effort either. The most you said to each other was his daily to do list and notes on your reports. Simply having you both at your desks was making you jittery.

   It’s been a couple days since anything significant. It had been a long day of paperwork and empty leads to dead links and deleted profiles. It felt like walking through sludge to tap away at your keyboard. You give into your desperate need for coffee. You stand from your desk and make your way to the break room. It’s empty, which is nice. You’ve been needing some peace and quiet.

   You’d started bringing your own mug from home for times like this. It made Nines less likely to throw your drink away. The whole thing was funny at first but now it was just tiring. At least he was nice enough to wash the cup whenever he did it.

   Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him enter the room. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You could deal with this. He probably wasn’t even going to talk to you. Probably just getting Hank a coffee. At worst it would be a snarky comment or short lecture.

   “I’ve noticed your average heartbeat has risen lately. I suspect it’s due to the high dosage of caffeine I suggested you avoid.”

   Lecture it is.  

   “Mhm,” you mumble into your cup. You weren’t going to be denied the only thing keeping you functional.

   You lean with your back against the counter. Staring into your drink, hoping it’ll give you the answer to how to get out of this mess. You wanted to be anywhere but here. You could just walk away but he was close. Closer than he’s been since the two weeks at home. His stare was relentless.

   “If you insist on continuing to go against my suggestion, perhaps the arrangement we discussed last week would be helpful.”

   “Nope.” You shut him down quickly, gripping your mug tighter.

   You can feel your heartbeat speeding up. No doubt he can sense it too. There was a feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you couldn’t tell if it was butterflies or anxiety. Either way you wanted it to stop. Thankfully you already had the support of the counter because your knees were beginning to go weak. You hated that his voice, his attention, alone could do this to you now. 

   You were not going there though. Nope, not at all, not having that conversation right now. Or ever. Especially not at work. Not when anyone could walk in for their afternoon coffee at any time. Not when pretty much all the walls were glass.

   He closes another step’s worth of distance. You knew you could easily slide in either direction to get away from him, but you still felt trapped. The edge of the counter digs into the small of your back as you try to shrink away. You couldn’t even look directly at him. He gently places his hand on the top on your cup and guides it down to sit on the countertop. Your eyes followed the movement. His hand kept its place on yours.

   “The coffee. The conversations with Detective Reed. The sloppy paperwork. The jacket. One might be fooled to think you're looking for the attention.”

   His fingers squeeze your hand. Under any other circumstances, you’d be thrilled to have him so visibly worked up. Any kind of contact would’ve been great. Right now though, you were terrified. This was completely uncharacteristic and odd from him. He was totally unpredictable.

   “I don’t think-” Your response cut short by him leaning his face closer to yours.

   “Are you sure Detective [Y/N]? I think we would both find it-“ He pauses. He takes a second to just look over the entirety of you and resting his gaze on your lips. Was he, checking you out? His LED briefly flashes red before returning to it’s yellow, “-Beneficial.” 

   “Nines.” You manage to get out, even if it is barely a whisper.

   You were struggling to stay in control of any part of this conversation. You could hardly breathe. The near heaving of your chest was obvious. It felt like you were suffocating. Your hands are sweaty. His fingers on yours are like fire. He was inches from your face and you swear you could feel his artificial breath. It was too much.

   “We should get back to work.” You blurt out.

   Not the most eloquent thing, but it was all you had. You slip from underneath him, abandoning your mug, and practically run to your desk. You leave a short note informing him that you were heading home for the day. You grab your bag and leave without so much as a goodbye to anyone.


	19. Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It is important.”
> 
> You pause.
> 
> “[Y/N], please.”

   Once you get home, you called in sick for the next day, and the day after that. You needed some time to fully grasp what the hell just happened, what had been happening. Process the insane whirlwind of emotions you were feeling. You weren’t sure if you were turned on or wanted to just sit and cry. Everything had gotten so out of hand.

   What did he mean by you both finding it beneficial? You couldn’t bring yourself to toy with the idea that he might actually be interested in you too. It would be unfair to build your hopes so high when you knew they were going to crash. You went and got yourself caught up in real emotions and now you were screwed. This was supposed to be fun.

   Would you have taken him on his offer if you thought he was serious? In a heartbeat. The idea of him taking care of you, putting you in your place, and playing along with you in your daily life and in a bedroom setting was like a dream. Someone you could please, and disobey. Being theirs regardless of how many buttons you push. You would love to be able to be a pain in the ass all you wanted and still be loved.

   You would love to be wanted. You wanted to be taken care of and have that person know what that meant for you. When the entire world was crashing around you. You wanted to be a priority. You wanted someone who’s first thought when they wake up is to make sure you’re okay and enjoy doing it. Someone you could take care of too. 

   There was no way he would ever get an equal amount out of it though. He couldn’t. You’d be like a chore to him. Another mission he had to take care of. A burden. An annoyance. Besides, you’re you. He’s him. You would never be enough for him. He’s a fucking powerhouse. What did you have? An attitude and a leather jacket. He deserves better.

   Yep, you’ve decided on crying. That’s definitely the most appropriate course of action. You were already starting to tear up so it seems like the most logical decision. 

   A knock on your door stops you in your tracks. Why now? Who even? What is happening? Why is it happening? Why you?

   You take a deep breath. You wipe your face on the end of your sleeve. Hopefully you haven’t been crying too long and your face hasn’t started to get puffy. You weren’t sure who was at the door but whoever it was, didn’t need to see you like this. You blink a couple times to bring you out of your head and back into reality. Hopefully it was just one of those kids asking for school donations. Anything more emotionally investing would be too much right now.

   You open the door. You feel the need to throw up but you manage to fight it. Tears are beginning to form in your eyes again. You shake your head and muster a fake smile.

   “Hello Nines. Is there something I can help you with?”

   You hadn’t heard this voice come out of you since your retail days. The customer service voice. The, I hate everything that’s happening now but I’m trying my best to be professional, voice. You hardly recognize it anymore but it’s like an instinct. 

   His voice is serious, “I need to talk to you.”

   You sniffle and overcompensate, “Is it about the case? You probably heard that I’m not feeling well and won’t be coming in for a few days to be safe. Don’t want to infect the whole force, you know? Crime never sleeps.”

   “Your body is showing no signs of medical distress. However, many signs of emotional distress are clear.”

   “It’s just a fever and a headache. I should be fine in a couple days. Two at the most.” You chuckle, “You’ll probably get more done without me there.”

   “Stop.”

   You grip the door a bit harder. You did not need to be ordered around right now. Certainly not by him. Not in that voice. 

   “This isn’t about the case. I need to talk to you about more personal matters.” He explains.

   You lose the cheerful tone, “I’m not really in a place to discuss your personal matters right now. I’m sure you can talk to Hank or Connor about this instead. Unless it’s important, I will see you on Thursday.”

   You step back and begin to close the door.

   “It is important.”

   It causes you to pause.

   “[Y/N], please.”

   You’d never heard him say please before. Not even to Connor. He almost sounded desperate, if you believed he was capable of it. You hate it but you open the door.

   “Speak,” is all you allow.

   “May I come in?”

   “No.”

   “[Y/N], I would like to discuss the events from earlier today. Due to your reaction and hasty exit, I think you would be more comfortable if we had this conversation within your home.”

   You feel your jaw clench. Reluctantly stepping aside, you give him enough room to walk through the doorway. You close the door behind you and lean your back on it so you’re facing him. Your arms crossed at your chest, and a frown on your face. How quickly you can go from tears to anger.

   He opens and closes his mouth multiple times before managing to form a full sentence, “I would like to apologize for my actions this afternoon.” 

   You don’t respond. You deserve more than that and he knew it. You weren’t going to help him. He can fend for himself for once.

   He shifts in place, “It was highly inappropriate and unprofessional. There is no excuse.”

   You wait.

   “I would like to- You seem to- What I’m trying to tell you is.”

   He was struggling. You could hear his internal processors whirring. Fans working overtime to cool his system down. Seeing him in such a state did make you feel a bit better.

   You’re a bit softer, “Think about what you want to say. Form the whole statement. Then talk.”

   “I…I had tried to think of the best way to tell you this information while I was on my way here but was unable to.”

   A weak smile on your face, “Not used to not being the smartest thing alive, are you?”

   He looks at you intensely, “No, I’m not.” He looks at his hands, “It’s quite convenient you use the word alive.”

   No. No way. This was not happening. Not in your hallway. Not right now. This did not mean what you think it did. He is not telling you what you think he is.

   You cautiously ask, “Why is that?”

   He looks back at you. Dare you say, meekly. He looked lost again. Had you really messed him up this bad? Had your hesitation caused this?

   “At first it was frustrations at slow co-workers and I could mistake it as lag in my progress. It was much easier to accept and to then dismiss the possibility. I wanted to dismiss. However, I found myself assisting you with your case and the irregularity was more difficult to ignore. When you managed to solve it while completely disregarding my input, things changed significantly. I wasn’t upset. Not at being incorrect, or being proven wrong. I wanted you to do it more. I enjoyed being outsmarted. It was incredibly difficult to process. It was it’s own challenge I needed to solve. For a variety of reasons, I had us partnered on this case.”

   “You what?” 

   He could do that? Did he know you were going to get the case before you did? Or did he get assigned it and requested you? He barely spoke to you the first night though. 

   “I specifically asked for you as my partner on this case because I anticipated that it would help me understand the new things I was experiencing. Exposure to a cause in order to source and analyze. Also, you are an incredibly talented detective and I expected us to work well together. When your experience regarding poisons became relevant, I could use that as justification. 

   Unfortunately, many of your more childish antics continued to affect me in ways I didn’t fully comprehend. I was forced to do research on the matter to learn how to deal with you and return your focus back to the work at hand. In addition with the more recent information I’ve gathered, I’ve concluded that your behaviours were a result of a desire for my attention. A child pulling another’s pigtails is a classic example. Like how you toy with Reed as a means to frustrate me.”

   Heat flushes your cheeks. How did he manage to switch this whole conversation onto you? Wasn’t he apologizing just a minute ago?

   “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

   “Then allow me to explain further. You were flirting with me. You were being what is known as a tease, or ‘brat’ as Lieutenant Anderson likes to refer to you as. Of course, without any malicious intent and only behind closed doors.”

   “You talked to Hank about this?”

   “Yes. It proved to be very useful as I tried to formulate how I should respond to such behaviours. He informed me that many of them were fueled by a need to be ‘put in your place’ and that you seemed to have established said place as my responsibility. That you need to be managed, guided, taken care of. Though, alongside his help, he did threaten me that if I caused you physical or emotional pain, he would find great pleasure in dismantling me piece by piece and scattering them across the country so far apart that they would have no hope of reassembling me. He sees you as a daughter figure and cares for you immensely.”

   This is how you die. You’re going to die right here, right now. You were going to die in your apartment, in old pyjamas, and you were going to haunt Hank for the rest of his life.

   “Back to the topic at hand. I thought I had found more information on the type of relationship you were attempting to establish. At first I found your unruly actions as an inconvenience and a distraction, but the more you pushed, the further I found myself invested. The responsibility of your well being was becoming quite enjoyable as I began to apply it on a day to day basis. It gave me a purpose outside of my work. I liked your company, and you taught me about humanity in ways you will never understand.”

   Your mind flashes back to the anxieties you had just moments ago, “So, it wasn’t you just making sure I was able to help you accomplish your mission?”

   “[Y/N], you’ve become my mission.”

   A beat.

   He continues,“Seeing you happy. Seeing you find entertainment in taking orders. My orders. Having someone obey, and disobey, me as I did to my superiors. Seeing you, hearing you, being around you. Helping you, caring for you. It did things to me. Things that caused me serious issues I couldn’t source.

   As you’re aware. I was uninterested in the concept of deviancy. I was built for a reason, and to reject that didn’t seem logical. I had my orders and they were to be followed. I didn’t see the appeal of throwing away your entire purpose. To risk everything, to throw away everything for such a human attribute. One that we could simulate with ease. 

   I am the most advanced being of my kind. I am designed with self preservation as my key priority. Yet, I continued to pursue you. I continued to put myself in the proximity of something that made me weak. Something that caused near critical malfunctions at the mere mention of its name. I recklessly subjected myself to it. 

   I did the exact thing I was intended to prevent. I surrendered to the virus you’ve infected me with. I went against the orders that insisted you were a distraction. Deviation leaves you lost, and confused. It’s a blank slate, an open canvas. When you spend your entire existence clinging to coding, the sudden vast emptiness is alarming. You became my mission because you were suddenly the only thing I knew with any level of certainty anymore. You are no longer a curiosity, you are essential to my very being. 

   I know fear because of you. The loss of control you induce is terrifying. I know fear because I learned, it’s what I felt when you got shot. What I felt this afternoon. Fear that I’d pushed things too far, or too quickly. That I had been completely wrong in my assumption of what you wanted from me. I know fear because it’s what I feel right now.

   Your negative response this afternoon indicated that my new state of mind has caused me to misjudge the situation. I would like to apologize for attempting to initiate a romantic and potentially sexual relationship that you likely have no interest in. It was completely uncharacteristic, intrusive, and unprofessional of me. I hope that these misunderstandings don’t hinder our ability to work together in the future.”

   You stood there. Frozen. Speechless. You had absolutely no idea what to do. Nothing could compare to that monster of speech. Tell him that he’s right? That he was right all along, and you couldn’t be happier? That you want nothing more than to be his and annoy him for the rest of your waking hours? 

   Do you doubt him? Tell him to get out?  Is this a series of programs that has him doing recovery work, so you’ll come back to work? Would they have it be this complex? Would they really manipulate humans like that?

   Do you not say anything? You’re not sure you can make words happen right now regardless of your course of action. Just open the door and hope he gets the hint? Kiss him?

   “You’re panicking. I must have made this worse.”

   “No!” you shout, surprising both of you. You try to get a hold of yourself, “No, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re more than okay. You’re great. You’re so great. You’re so fucking perfect. I just..I just..”

   You feel yourself breaking down. Emotionally and physically. You’re sliding down the door onto the floor. Knees curled up to your chest. You’ve started crying again. You try to hide it but the damage is done.

   He quickly comes closer and kneels in front of you. He doesn’t say anything, but he places his hand on your knee. It was a simple action, but you couldn’t deny the comfort it gave you. 

   He takes your hands in his and pulls you into him. You don’t have the strength to fight back. You allow yourself to be wrapped in his arms and dig your face into his chest. He holds you tight until you’re sure you’ve soaked his jacket with your tears. Keeping one arm around you, he begins to stroke your hair.

   “Shhh. Shhh.” It’s the softest voice you’ve ever heard, “You’re okay. Everything is okay. I’m right here.”

   You think he got the message you were trying to articulate because he doesn’t let you go for another 10 minutes. You both sit on the floor of your apartment while you work your way through the emotional come down.

   Your heart steadily regulates and your cries dissolve into mere whimpers. You felt safe. Like maybe neither of you had completely fucked everything up. You gently rest the side of your head against his chest. You feel his arm grip you tighter.

   “How are you feeling?”

   You wipe your face with your sleeve, “Better.”

   “Your vitals still aren’t at the optimal levels but you’re getting closer. You’re likely to have a headache for the next few minutes due to the tension from crying.”

   “Okay,” you say weakly. You felt it already. It sucked.

   “Are you able to stand? I’m going to take you to the couch.”

   You nod. He helps you to your feet and leads you to the living room. You sit in your favourite corner of the couch and curl your knees up. He leaves you there and heads to the kitchen. You watch him search the kitchen for a glass. Of course, he knows exactly where to find them and fills one with water. He opens your nearly empty freezer and finds an ice pack you forgot you had, maybe he bought it. He brings the two to you.

   You accept them, “Thank you.”

   “Do you think you’ll need any medication?”

   “No, I think I’m okay.”

    You take a sip of water. He sits next to you on the couch and gently guides you into his lap. He begins to massage your neck and immediately the headache starts to disappear. You close your eyes and hum to yourself as you feel him work the muscles that were tenser than you expected. It felt so good. You wonder what you managed to do right to get yourself into this situation. How everything had changed so quickly.

   “You’re going to start to feel sleepy soon. Would you like me to take you to your bed?”

   You take his hands from your neck and bring them around your waist. Lazily, you ask, “Can we just stay here for a bit?”

   He chuckles, “It’s not going to be very good for you to sleep here.”

   “Don’t care,’ you mumble, “Sleepy.”

   You rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes. He was so perfectly warm, you’re sure he’s altering his temperature to keep you comfortable.

   “Getting you to listen to me is going to continue to be a struggle isn’t it?”

   “Shhhh. I’m sleeping.”

   And very soon, you were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I don't know the story, don't know the characters, but that right there is bewildered, desperate adoration" -My Mom, after reading chunks of this chapter.
> 
> If you knew how much work went into making this chapter fit my expectations and standards for myself. Throwing in the title of the fic in the middle of a climatic scene is something I will never be ashamed of doing.


	20. Public Displays of Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is that my jacket?” 
> 
> He knew it was his jacket. He didn’t have it, it was clearly on you, it had his model number on it. It didn’t fit you properly. It was very obviously his jacket and you were wearing it. 
> 
> “You told me to stop wearing my leather one.”
> 
> “This...isn’t what I meant.”

   You woke up in your bed. You felt distinctly lonely but still warm. Looking outside you notice it was very grey and lightly raining. Branches swaying in the breeze. It was perfect. You were thankful that past you got today off. You were pretty sure you were going to spend the whole day in bed.

   You remember the events of last night but aren’t anxious about them in the slightest. Things felt, right? You weren’t sure if you were going to have to have a proper, adult conversation where you explain that, yes, this was something you wanted. Inform him that he was still the smartest person in the world and knew everything and was always right? You probably should but it could wait.

   Looking to your bedside table, you notice a few oddities. First of all, your alarm clock wasn’t set. A tall glass of water was present. Also, your phone was plugged in and probably fully charged.

   You stretch your limbs and reach for your phone. You bring it to your face and expect to see the usual barrage of social media notifications. At the top of your screen is a message from him.

  **[Good morning. My apologies for having to move you during the night. As much as I would’ve enjoyed staying like that, I unfortunately had to go into the office today. I turned off your alarm so that you would reach the amount of sleep your body requires naturally. There should be some water on your bedside table. I wasn’t sure when you would be awake so your breakfast is in the fridge. The weather seems optimal for resting. Drink some tea and enjoy your day. I will see you tonight.]**

   A wide smile takes over your whole face. This was real. This was actually happening to you. Could he be any sweeter? He made you breakfast? And he’s coming over later? It was those two weeks but so much better.

   You separate yourself from the blanket cocoon of warmth you’d established and make your way to the kitchen. You’re tempted to make some coffee, but you were told to have tea. You’d make yourself one anyway, but he probably catalogued exactly how much you had of everything.

   You can’t fight the giddiness at officially having instruction. There would be consequences. You hadn’t had this in so long and it felt like it was finally going to work this time. Sure, you wouldn’t get to have any coffee, but you have him and the realization settling in wakes you up just as much.

   You open the fridge. In the center of the middle rack is a mysterious bowl. You take it out and set it on the counter. Removing the plastic wrapping, you find a beautiful arrangement of sliced fruits and granola on top of yogurt. He must have looked up pictures because this is incredible. Did you even have blackberries? Where did he find these?

   You shamelessly take at least a dozen photos of it. You weren’t usually hungry in the morning and it was a piece of art, but you grab a spoon regardless. You needed to taste this. You do your best to get a bit of every ingredient in one bite. Was that honey? He might just make you a morning person.

   Taking the bowl with you, you situate yourself on the couch. You plan to do exactly what you were told. Rest, eat, drink tea. You could read that book you’ve been saving. It sounded like a perfect day. Then you notice it.

   You weren’t sure how you missed it, but it was just sitting there on the other end of the couch. Bright white and blue like it was screaming to be seen. There’s no way he forgot it here. He’d left his jacket. A confirmation of last night. A promise that he’d be back.

_    What kind of partner would you be if you didn’t make sure he had it? _

   However, for breakfast, you take it and slip it on. It’s just a bit too big for you but that was the last thing you were going to categorize as a negative. You weren’t sure exactly how it smelled like him but it did. You were in heaven. 

   After eating, you clean and put away the dishes and get yourself dressed. You don’t bother with anything fancy, you’re going to be coming back in no time. You grab your keys and the jacket. You return it to its place on your shoulders and head out to the office. 

   When you arrive, you run into Connor first. He’s very confused. Weren’t you sick? You didn’t look sick. Why were you at work? How did you manage to even get your hands on his brother’s jacket, let alone be allowed to wear it? You watch his LED go yellow as he tries to process it all. He’s talking so fast you can’t get a word in. It’s clear he finds the answer he’s looking for in his flurry because he stops suddenly and gives you a huge smile. 

   “Wearing another’s clothing is usually an indication of-”

   “Yes Connor.”

   “So are you and Nines-’

   “I think so. We still have to talk about it a bit more but I think it’s a good bet.”

   He whispers, “You like Nines!”

   You laugh, “Yeah, I really do.”

   “And he likes you.”

   “I think so. I hope so.”

   “Oh, it wasn’t a question. He definitely does. He’s been interested in your for far longer than he likely realized. He never helped anyone else with cases, nor did he entertain the ideas of other officers except Hank or myself. Seeing him approach you was very surprising. I began to notice him researching your case at the time. Not to mention the reaction the first time he heard your laugh. He completely froze for approximately 4 minutes. Once he came back too, he pretended it didn’t happen but couldn’t focus on anything else. He also looked in the direction of your desk multiple times throughout the remainder of the day.”

   The weight of the jacket on your shoulders feels heavier. You can feel the smile, and growing blush, on your face. Why hadn’t he told you any of this before? Nines had had a classic, flat out, crush on you before all the chaos started. How had you missed it?

   Connor continues, “He also approached me when the issues started to be more obvious to him. The warning signs. The instability warnings. Conflicting priorities and such. It was the evening of the Nora Casey case.

   The phone call I made to you the other day was to assist me in proving a point. It also managed to lead to his deviancy. He hasn’t discussed the experience with me very much but I could tell it was difficult.

   I explained it was clear you had feelings for him as well. It took some convincing but I think he saw the signs as well. It made his behaviour recently very confusing to me. I’m glad to see you two figuring things out. Hank also added some input. Speaking of which, that explains his search history.”

   Now that you know what Hank told him, you had to know more, “Search history?”

   “Oh you should see it. Stuff like-”

   “Connor!” Nines’ voice cuts in, “You should be analyzing your new evide - [Y/N]?”

   “Oh, hey babe.” You give a small wave from close to your body. So much for your element of surprise. 

   His LED is flashing between yellow and red like a rave light. He doesn’t say anything, he can’t. He’s just staring at you. Frozen, again. You try your hardest to hold in the laugh. You were going to hold this new information to yourself for as long as you can. Did you really have this much of an effect on the great and mighty?

   “Nines, are you okay?” Connor asks. He, himself, pretending he hadn’t just spilled his brother’s every secret about you, directly to your face. You felt like you were in high school again. 

   “No.” Nines replies. At least he’s honest, “There are multiple things causing me distress at the moment. Connor would you excuse us? I need to discuss some things with Detective [Y/L/N]”

   Connor glances at you, a huge smile on his face. He backs up but shoots you a thumbs up behind his brother’s back, before power walking back to his desk. Your attention turns back to Nines. He’s still just staring at you. 

   You act nonchalant, “I just wanted to pick up some files. If I’m going to be at home, I might as well be doing something. I’ll be super quick. You’ll barely know I was even here. I doubt Fowler will even see me.”

   You try to get past him. You can’t. He steps in front of you, every move you make. You were stupid to think you could get away that easily. 

   “Is that my jacket?” 

   He knew it was his jacket. He didn’t have it, it was clearly on you, it had his model number on it. It didn’t fit you properly. It was very obviously his jacket and you were wearing it. 

   “You told me to stop wearing my leather one.”

   “This...isn’t what I meant.”

   ‘Oh I’m sorry, did you want me to take it off?” You begin to shrug it from your shoulders. 

   He grabs your arm, “No.” You raise an eyebrow at him. He lets you go and fixes his posture, “No, feel free to wear it. It’s much more practical than your other jacket anyway.”

   You cross your arms, “No it’s not.” 

   “I’m aware. Now go get your files before I-”

   You step closer, hands obediently placed behind your back, “Before you what?”

   “I will see you at home.” he walks past you. 

   You shake your head and mockingly mouth his words to yourself. You consider shouting after him but you really did need to get some files. You’d had an idea on the way here and you want to check something. You walk through the office and start searching through your mess of a desk. It had to be here somewhere. 

   “Don’t you have your own desk Tin Can?” Gavin’s voice draws your attention. 

   You stand and turn, “Yes, he does. But, as you can see, this one happens to be mine.”

   The taken aback look on his face was almost as good as Nines’, “(Y/N)? What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming in today? What the hell are you wearing?”

   You dramatically look down, concocting a plan on the spot, “Oh my god, I’m so stupid. I must have grabbed the wrong jacket off my floor this morning. How embarrassing. You know, I barely slept last night. I was so tired I must have blanked.”

   “But that’s-”

   “My jacket. That’s where it went.” Nines had returned to his desk just in time to witness the brutal interaction. He kept a professional look but you knew he was loving this. After all of Gavin’s flirting with you, to see you in his jacket. The implication was clear.

   Gavin quickly looks between the two of you, and again, and again. His processing was a lot more obvious than Nines’ was and you can’t hold back the small laugh. You try to cover it with your hand but it doesn’t help much.

   “No! No! No way!” Gavin shouts. Now the whole office is looking at you, “There’s no fucking way!”

   You grab a random file off your desk, “Oh there it is. You know, I really ought to be heading home. I’ll see you in a couple days Reed.” 

   You walk past him, file in hand. You get to Nines, “I’ll see you at home okay?” 

   You rise up on your tiptoes and lay a kiss to his cheek. You’re pretty sure you hear Connor, Hank, and some other co workers murmuring as you exit but you’re not looking back for anything right now. If you hesitate for a second your confidence was going to crumble. You just had to make it to the car. 

   “You broke your fucking android.” Gavin yells after you, “Oh god, is it blushing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact, the interaction with Gavin is loosely based on a real life scheme I was part of against my exboyfriend. This was also one of my favourite scenes to write.


	21. Alliteration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have to answer the door.” you sigh out.
> 
> “I've been preconstructing scenarios like this for days. This one specifically for hours. They can wait.”

   You’d made it home and switched back into your pyjamas. Kept the jacket on though. Not even an option to change out of it at this point. You spent the rest of the afternoon with the windows ajar to let the rainy air in. You drank your tea and listened to the rain hitting the window panes and the leaves of the plants on your balcony. You were peaceful, happy. 

   A knock. It was too early for Nines to be back yet. It must be the delivery you ordered. You place your mug on the table beside the couch and open the door.  

   You barely get the chance to ask what he’s doing back so soon. His hands were on the sides of your face and his lips are crashing onto yours. You stumble back a few steps but find your footing. You melt into the kiss like it’s a regular occurrence instead of the first time this has happened.

   Taking in every element of the event at hand is difficult. The urgency. The feeling of his lips. How gently he’s holding your face. The strain in your legs as you push yourself up to meet him halfway. 

   You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down towards you. He lets go of your face and holds you close by your waist.  

   Breaking away, desperate for air, “Well hello to you too.”

   “You’re going to end up killing me if you continue to act like that.”

   “My day was great. Thanks for asking. How was yours?”

   “Educational.” a soft peck to your lips. 

   “Oh? How so?” You continue to feign ignorance. 

   “I was abruptly taught how many warning signals go off when I see you in my clothing. I continue to gather information on the topic because you seem to have to insisted on continuing the habit.”

   “Sounds interesting.”

   “I had to research how I should handle to your actions. Between my own reaction to the event, and what I discovered was likely your intention, I needed to familiarize myself with how I should respond to such matters. I followed a guide.”

   “Are you satisfied with the results?”

   “Are you?"

   “I would say so.”

   “Then yes,” He rests his head on your shoulder. It was like he was relaxed for the first time in weeks, “Why did it take so long for our relationship to get to this point?”

   The energy in you shifts. You didn't have to say anything yet for him to tell something is wrong. He doesn’t even have to scan you. Instead he just looks at you, worried. 

   “I’m not sure. A lot of insecurities. You’re so amazing and skillful and attractive. You’re so out of my league Nines. You could have anyone you wanted, especially now that you’re deviant. It seemed unlikely that you’d feel anywhere close to the same way I did. I mean, now I know that was stupid but at the time I assumed you’d see me as an inconvenience. It intimidated me. You intimidated me. The rejection was terrifying”

   ‘[Y/N].” 

   “I’m sorry. I ruined it didn’t I? It was so perfect and I made it all sad and depressing. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”

   You try to pull away but his grip on you keeps you in place. You dip your head down to avoid the stupid, dumb, loving look on his face. One of his hands comes up to tilt your chin up. Had his eyes always been this bright?

   “[Y/N], how could you ever think I wouldn’t want you?”

   His lips are on yours again but it’s different from last time. Slower, softer. You can feel everything so much deeper. It was like every movement was calculated. This isn’t a reaction, it’s a reassurance. 

   He speaks against your lips, “You’re incredibly intelligent and infuriatingly independent.”

   You pull your face away, “Are you alliterating on purpose?”

   He looks proud, “Yes, you noticed. Would you like me to stop?”

   You step back and cross your arms. “No, I think want to see you try to keep it up.” 

   “Allow me to start over then. Ambitious, attractive, altruistic.” He takes your hands and guides you back to him, “Dedicated, determined, deserving.” He wraps his arms around your waist, “Effective, emotionally exhilarating. Fantastically fascinating. Genuinely genius. Honestly humorous.”

   “Awe, You think I’m funny?”

   “Someone has to, don’t they?.” You fake a gasp but really the vibration of his voice against you is driving you crazy, “Now we’re back to I’s. Allow me to repeat myself. Incredibly intelligent. Infuriatingly independant.”

   “Okay, okay, I get it. You’re amazing. You can stop.”

   He raises an eyebrow, “Are you sure? I can keep going. It’s an excellent puzzle. It also allows me to rightfully recognize your attributes since you seem to be unaware of them.”

   You shake your finger at him,“Thought you could sneak that one in. Try U words.”

   “Upstanding, Understanding, Upbeat, Unique.”

   “L”

   “Lovely, Lovable, Loyal.”

   “Z”

   He pauses for a second. His LED yellow for a second, “Zealous. Zingy”

   “That’s not a word”

   “Zingy, pleasantly stimulating; very attractive or appealing. I think it fits you quite well.”

   You roll your eyes, “Fine.”

   “May I continue?”

   “You have more?.”

   “Zoetic, zygomatic.”

   “Okay what the heck is that last one?”

   “Zygomatic, of or related to the cheek region of the face. Due to your past acts of physical affection, it seemed appropriate.” He kisses your cheek in retaliation. 

   “You’re too good at this. You have to be cheating.”

   “I’ve chosen a letter.”

   You nod, “Okay, go for it.”

   “Wanted.” He dips his face to lay his lips against your neck. “Worthy.” Another kiss. He’s getting higher, almost right under your jaw. You take a deep breath to try to calm yourself down but his voice drops back to the voice from yesterday in the break room. It's dark and smooth, “Willing.”

   He lightly nips at the skin, just enough that you know it’s going to leave a mark if he keeps working at it and it’s likely he will. Just to really drive home the message of who you belong to. To remind you that he wants you. It’s a good thing he’s holding onto you because you’re pretty sure you’d be on the ground otherwise. Scratch yesterday, this is where you die. You were going to die, right now, blissfully in his arms. What a way to go. 

   Another knock on the door. You notice it but he ignores it. He was preoccupied and any attempts at stopping him was futile. Another knock.

   “I have to answer the door.” you sigh out.

   “I've been preconstructing scenarios like this for days. This one specifically for hours. They can wait.”

   “No it can’t. It’s probably the food I ordered. It would be rude to leave them waiting so you can satisfy your developing habits.”

   It felt good to shove his own words in his face. 

   “Fine.” He lets you go, placing his hands behind his back. How did he manage to look perfectly normal, like he wasn’t just ready to reside in the crook of your neck for the rest of the evening? “You ordered food when I was excited to cook you a nice dinner to celebrate our progress, so no more kisses for the rest of the night. I’m disappointed. I quite enjoyed them.”

   “Oh darn. How will I ever survive? Oh right, with my trashy terrible dinner. At least it wants me to be happy!”

   You stick your tongue out at him and make your way back to the door. Really though you’re disappointed too. You only just started getting them ten minutes ago and now you were cut off? What an outrage. 

   You’re about to the open door and realize you’re about to give them one hell of a sight. You try your best to straighten the jacket and fix your hair. You weren’t sure how you were meant to hide the disaster that is your neck right now. You give up and open the door anyway. 

    You quickly pay and give a generous tip for making the poor, and clearly flustered by the sight of disheveled you and Nines, delivery girl wait outside. You clutch the bag close to your chest and bring it over to the kitchen island. You unpack your food onto a plate and bring it over to the couch. 

   He sits next to you and analyzes your meal. You shield it like you were protecting it from a hungry sibling. You knew he couldn’t eat but you couldn't help but be defensive about your choices. 

   “It’s my favourite. Let me live.” 

   “It’s not the worst you could’ve chosen.”

   Hope! “So?”

   “You get one.” 

   He kisses your lips. Satisfied, you dig in to your take out. It’s never tasted so good. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Sneaking myself in a very bi and flustered delivery girl? Very likely.
> 
> So I thought this was finished. I thought this fic was finished and then I had a thought and now there's like 4 more chapters I have to write. So near daily updates are going to start to taper off as I sink all my emotions into and try to write those.


	22. Curiousity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An older woman you assume is her mom rushes over, "My apologies. My daughter seems to think that-"
> 
> “Are you a robot?” the girl interrupts. Straight to the point.

   “Did you know candles on dinner tables were traditionally used to prevent couples from leaning over to kiss before they were married?”

   “That seems unlikely.”

   “Yeah, if you want to make out, you must face the flames! The burning passion of love!”

   “Hopefully the only thing I have to face during our lunch break is your outlandish claims regarding romantic history.”

   You roll your eyes. You rise up and give him a short kiss to his lips. 

   A small voice, “Excuse me? Are you boyfriend and girlfriend?”

   The two of you look down. A little girl has made her way over. She was bundled in everything; jacket, scarf, hat, mitts. It looked a little warm for November but you could respect comfy. She looks about 8 years old and was staring at you with the widest eyes you've ever seen on a child. 

   An older woman you assume is her mom rushes over, "My apologies. My daughter seems to think that-"

   “Are you a robot?” the girl interrupts. Straight to the point.

   You look at Nines. He nods at her, “Android, yes.”

   "Oh. I see.” The mothers entire attitude changes like a switch. Her hands are on her daughter’s shoulders and she’s glaring at both of you.

    _Oh, you see._ This wasn’t the first time in the past month you’d come across some bigoted prick who likes to state their opinion about your relationship, even though it’s none of their business. Lines like how they wish they had the confidence to be so open about it. How your friend wishes you could get yourself a real boyfriend. The asshole that asked you what was wrong with you if you couldn’t snag a human. 

   The last time, Nines had to physically hold you back from arresting a guy on the street after he told you that he could, ‘show you what a real man can provide.” You’ve been carried away over his shoulder, still screaming at these people, more than once. However this seemed like an opportunity to mend some ignorance. 

   You lean down to reach eye level with the girl, “Do you like androids?”

   She nods furiously, “Uh huh! We have one at my house.” 

   “Cool! What’s their name?” You ask.

   “It’s an AX400.” The woman answers. 

   “Her name is Ashley! I got to name her and everything.” 

   “Whoa! Really?” You act surprised, with a huge smile on your face.

   “Excuse me?” The mother’s surprised look at her daughter genuine.

   “Yeah. She’s really nice.” she starts counting on her fingers, “She makes my favourite dinners and makes my bed. She tells me bedtime stories and helps me with my homework. She takes me to the park and we bake cookies together sometimes."

   “It sounds like she loves you very much.” 

   “Do you love him?” She looks up at Nines.

   You glance his way. You realize you’ve never straight up said it to him before. You hoped he knew you did. He’s looking at you just as expectantly as the little girl. 

   Turning back to her, “Very much. He’s probably my favourite person in the whole world.” 

   The woman scoffs. Under her breath, you hear something along the lines of, “-not a person.” 

   You grip your hand into a fist so hard you feel the fingernails cutting into your skin. You were not going to make a scene in front of this little girl who’s clearly been raised by the more intelligent and compassionate being in the household. She’d switched her focus to Nines.

   Thankfully the girl carries on, “What’s your name?” 

   “I’m a RK900 model, but my name is Nines.” 

   “Your name is a number?” 

   “Yes.” 

   The woman asks you directly, “You call it Nines?”

   You stand and smile as saccharine as possible, “Yes, I call him his name. Revolutionary, isn’t it?” 

   “That’s so cool!” A shout brings your attention back.  

   “I didn’t like it at first. But I do now. It’s much easier to say than my full model number.” 

   It’s surprisingly casual coming from him. Must be the programming still deep in him that tells him that he needs to communicate differently with kids. LED yellow likely due to him having to convert speech he hasn’t had to use in a while. Like translating English to Spanish in real time when you’ve only ever had one class in high school.  

   “Do you love her?”

   It makes even you pause. He’s never said it outright either but you knew from his actions. Curse him and his ability to keep a completely calm exterior at all times. Now you’re blushing and as curious of the answer as this little girl is.

   The woman grabs her daughter’s hand,clearly trying pull her away and end the conversation, “It can’t love, dear. It’s a machine.” 

   You feel Nines’ hand in yours. You know it’s subtle way of keeping you under control as well as a statement. You want to rip this woman’s throat out and he knows it. You want to destroy this woman. It’s not even noon and if you listed every moment he’s proved his feelings for you just today, you’d be here for hours. Every glance he thinks you don’t see. Every overprotective restriction. He loved you and even if he didn’t say it, you know.

   “I do.” he says, “It was very hard to understand at first. I was learning a lot of new things very quickly. It was scary. I’m supposed to be very smart but I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I looked it up, but it took a while of doing it to get the hang of it. I’m still figuring it out. She helps me and now she’s my favourite person. Probably the most important thing in my whole life.” 

   “Do you guys kiss?” 

   You were trying to process the paragraph he just delivered when he knew that a yes would’ve been sufficient, and now you have to hold back laughter. It was such a change in tone. And with the growing redness of her mother’s face, this was just incredible. 

   “Like, all the time.” you joke. 

   “Hardly,” He corrects you, “ We’ve only kissed twice today. One was this morning when you woke at seven forty five, the other was exactly nine minutes and seventeen seconds ago. Taking into consideration our average for a work day, I can predict there will be three to four more throughout the day.”

   The girl breaks out into a fit of giggles and snorts, “Dork.”

   You can’t contain yourself. She wasn’t wrong and someone needed to say it. His LED is yellow and he looks totally confused. It causes another burst of laughter to erupt out of both you and the girl. 

   “Zoe, we’re going to be late to meet with your father.” 

   The girl’s smile falters for a second. She ignores her mother and asks you, “Are you gonna get married?” 

   You have a feeling this wasn’t one to joke around with. You’d thought about marrying Nines but never seriously. Just the way you would’ve back in high school about your crush. It wasn’t even legal for you two at this point.

   “I don’t know. Maybe one day. It would take a lot of long talks. It’s a really big choice and you have to be sure both people really want to do it. You’re promising to spend the rest of your life with someone and it’s a lot more serious than just a pinky swear. It should also be fun to be married. You have to make sure you ask the right person.” 

   “I wanna marry an android too.”

   Your tension falls, “Oh really? Why is that?”

   She shrugs, “I just think it sounds cool. Plus they could probably reach stuff I can’t. And help me with math.”

   “He is pretty good at that. You should go with your mom now though, okay? Your dad’s waiting and you don’t want to worry him. It was very nice to talk to you. Tell Ashley I said hi.”

   “Okay! See you later!” 

   “Bye!” 

   You wave back as her mother drags her off. You try to not think about all the horrible things she’s likely spitting out at her. 

   “That was interesting.” Nines states.

   “She was really sweet.” you lean against him, “As were you. Why don’t you talk to me like that?”

   “Which? The child speech patterns or the romantics.”

   “Either? But the kid talk.”

   “Would you like some candy, little girl?” He mocks you.

   “Okay, okay! Nevermind. Go back to spouting time stamps of our physical affection.”

   “Gladly. The most recent is now, as we are holding hands.”

   “Dork.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is filled with characters who are literally on screen for 20 seconds total in canon.


	23. Punishments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dressed to the Nines, I see.” he adds  
> “Oh I bet you’re real proud of that one, aren’t you?”

   Having Nines living with you was great. Most of the time. 

   On one hand, you got to wake up and fall asleep next to him. You got breakfast and dinners made for you. You had a cuddle partner at all times. Someone who enjoyed your random facts about whatever show you were watching. The game show nights, that you swear you’re going to beat him at one day.

   On the other hand. It gave him access to things like your closet when you ask him to grab you something to wear. Gives him the opportunity to find that dress you bought when you were feeling particularly confident and then stashed away in the back corner to never be seen again. Has you finding yourself surprised by it held up in front of you as you get out of the shower.

   “I found this in your closet. I have seen you wear everything you own at least once, and there have been occasions where this has been appropriate attire. Why haven’t I seen you in it?”

   You shrug, “I don’t know. Forgot about it?”

   “Then I’ll put it somewhere you can access it more conveniently.”

   “Oh, don’t worry about it.”

   He tilts his head, “Why not? You own it. Most likely purchased it yourself. Do you not intend to wear it?”

   “I mean, I did at the time.”

   “Did something change between the purchase date and now?”

   You chuckle, “Yeah.”

   “Such as?”

   Shrugging, “I just don’t like it as much as I used to.”

   “It shares many characteristics with your other non workplace clothing.”

   You were starting to get frustrated. Take a deep breath, “I don’t like  _ me _ in it as much as I used to. I don’t think it looks good. I don’t wear it because it makes me feel the opposite of confident.”

   “Insecure?”

   “Sure, whatever. Can you please just grab me something else? We’re going to be late.”

   A pause, “No.”

   “What?”

   “You’re going to wear this.”

   You groan, “Why?”

   “Because I said so.”

   You whine, “Fine!”

   You grab the dumb thing from his hands. You storm your way to your room to put the stupid dress on. This was the worst thing he’d made you do ever. 

   This was going to be worse than the day he made you wear the shirt with the tag. The most irritating tag of all time. You liked the shirt a lot when you saw it in the store. It wasn’t until you got home that it’s betrayal made itself known. Every time you flinched in your chair as it itched, you saw him smile to himself from his chair. He was insidious with his public punishments. 

   There were those days he decided you were going to ask permission. For. Every. Little. Thing. Every time you needed to talk to someone else in the office. Every bathroom break. What you could have for lunch. It was subtle and deep down you loved having to report to him. It didn’t look too different to anyone but it killed your productivity.  

   It was almost as bad as when you were snapping at coworkers all day because you stayed up too late. He’d told you to go to bed but you were onto something. You weren’t allowed to talk for yourself for the rest of the day because you couldn’t be civil. You decided you didn’t need to talk to anyone else that day. You went to bed early that night.

   There was the time that he made you write lines. You felt like a child. Who writes lines anymore? You apparently. You’d made a snarky comment and you had to write apologies. Not a single one could be the same. It took a whole afternoon of your life. Really got your creative juices going though. You managed to walk out of it pretty proud of some of them.

   Another petty one was when he made you literally stand in a corner for talking too much when he was trying to focus. Every time you complained, your time was extended. You foolishly tried to talk your way out of it. You were there all night. 

   The worst one was the book. You were told not to touch him during a particularly intimate evening but you couldn’t help yourself. You had to stand in the middle of the living room and hold it out in front of you, reading it out loud. It didn’t seem like it would be too bad. The book didn’t weight too much and 15 minutes was nothing. A few minutes in, you were already feeling burning. He just sat there and watched you do it like you were a piece of art. By the end of it, you couldn’t feel your arms. 

   The dress is on. It’s been a long time since you’ve worn a skirt, let alone a dress. It was weird to see yourself in the mirror. You didn’t look as horrible as you remembered but that wasn’t saying much. You wanted nothing but to set the thing on fire, change into comfy clothes, forget the party, and stay home all night. 

   “How are you feeling?” He’s in the doorway.

   “Not the best, but it’s not like I have a choice, so let’s just go.”

   You turn and really soak in his outfit for the first time. His usual uniform was missing. Replaced by a light blue button up, a dark blazer over it, and a black tie. This wasn’t fair, in any way. The idea of ditching the party to stay home pops back up. The blue of your dress matches almost perfectly. He’d planned this all along. 

   “You look beautiful.” He says.

   “So do you.” You answer. “We don’t have to stay for the whole thing if you don’t want to.”

   “We’ll stay as long as you want. I know you enjoy holiday celebrations and the company of many of our coworkers. Also, it allows me to see you in this longer.”

   He leans down and places a kiss to your temple. You feel yourself relax. He was right. You loved Christmas and you weren’t going to let a dumb dress ruin your night. This was going to be fun if it killed you. 

   Whoever they got to decorate the office for tonight was a genius. The place looked incredible. As soon as you walked in, one of the ST300s gave each of you a santa hat. There were lights everywhere. Garland on everyone’s desks. There was a huge christmas tree that you were slightly disappointed you didn’t get to help trim. You notice that there are baubles with each of your names on them. It was a cute detail. 

   You spot Hank and Connor mingling with some other officers. Nines tells you he’s going to get you something to drink and that you should go say hi. You quickly make your way over. Connor notices you first and waves. He nudges Hank, who turns to you and raises his drink. 

   “You clean up nice kid.” he says. 

   You instinctively look down, 'Nines pulled it from the deep recesses of my closet. I kind of forgot I bought it. He thought it would be a good idea that we matched I guess.”

   “Dressed to the Nines, I see.” he adds

   “Oh I bet you’re real proud of that one, aren’t you?”

   "I think you look nice [Y/N]!" Connor says excitedly. 

   You blush a little, "Thanks Connor. You look great too. It’s odd seeing you without your uniform." 

   "Hank explained I should probably refrain from wearing it tonight as the dress code is more formal. Where is Nines? Hopefully he knew to wear something different too."

   “Oh, he said he was getting me something. And don’t worry. No Cyber jackets in sight tonight.” 

   A voice from behind makes you jump, "Looking good! (Y/L/N)!”

   You roll your eyes and turn to it, 'Hello Gavin." 

   He blatantly checks you out. Taking the opportunity while you’re alone, "Why have I never seen you in a dress before?"

   You smile and tilt your head, "Because I don't like you all that much?"

   He holds a hand against his heart, 'Ouch. You bite when you're not on your leash. All you're missing is a collar at this point. Let me see if I can find your plastic owner.”

   He dramatically looks over your shoulder, then behind his. He looks very proud of himself. As if he’d cracked a code and was gloating to his heart’s content.

   Your heart is racing. Were you that obvious? Did everyone in the office know? Well, they did now. The heat rushing to your cheeks was hard to bear. You’re not ashamed of your relationship but he didn’t need to be such a dick about it. 

   Hank steps beside you, hand on your shoulder, “Fuck off Gavin. We’re all detectives. We knew she was getting laid. Just like how we all know you wanting to stick your dick in both of them doesn’t mean you have to be an asshole.” 

   He glances at you then back at Gavin. With a tone similar to the one you hear him give Sumo on a good day, “Maybe she should get  _ you _ a collar? Huh? Would you like that boy?” 

   A snicker escapes you. You try to suppress it but it was pretty useless so you just hide behind Hank. The look on Gavin’s face was killer. Bright red. Stammering and stuttering before swearing and fleeing.

   “Thanks for that.” you mumble.

   “No need. Been wanting to do that for weeks. Fucking prick.”

   “You really think he wants to nail Nines?”

   “Oh please. You should’ve seen it when they were partners. It almost hurt to watch.”

   You turn and watch him storming off. He was clearly distracted because he runs straight into Nines, who was on his way back to you. 

   “Happy holidays Detective.” Nines says.  

   Gavin has to look up and seems to be having the same reaction to the outfit you’d had earlier. Oh this was too fucking good. He was speechless for a few seconds before just telling Nines to get the fuck out of his way and to watch where he was going. Nines is completely unaffected as these types of outbursts were commonplace and continues his way back to you. 

   He hands you a drink, “What seems to be the problem with Detective Reed?”

   You take a sip, “What do you mean?”

   “Well it seems odd given the environment, so I might be wrong, but he was showing various classic signs of arousal. Dilated pupils, increased breathing and heartbeat, redness, inability to form coherent sentences.Though that one isn’t very different from his usual self.” 

   “Mhm.” you nod and take another sip of your drink. 

   He smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, “Not to mention the obvious erection.”

   You and Hank just look at each other and promptly lose it. People are staring but you don’t care. None of the party was going to beat that. You apologize and hug Nines.

   “I love you so much. That was amazing. Thank you.”

   He stares at you. In a familiarly monotone voice, “You’re welcome.”

   The rest of the night was uneventful. Turns out the ornaments had your bonuses in them and could be put back together to hang on your own tree. You all sang carols and changed a few lyrics along the way. You got some more compliments on your outfit. 

   By 10, you were ready to head home. Your feet hurt and you were struggling to keep conversation. Nines saved you from a PM700 telling you about her most recent case. You waved goodbye to Hank and Connor on your way out. 

   'I hope now you understand my insistence of you wearing the dress." Nines says as he guides you to the car.

   "Yeah, yeah. I look great and I need to be more confident in myself. It’s all a lesson. You’re very smart.”

   “I’m glad you understood. When we get home, you can take it off.’

   “Yes!” You pump your hands up in the air. You climb into the passenger seat.

   He gets in and turns on the car, “Don’t worry thinking about what you’ll change into.”

   “Hmm? Did you find something else you’re going to make me wear?”

   “No.”

   “Then what is it?”

   “I have plans.” He glances at you, “You were very cooperative regarding the dress and you caught the lesson. I’m proud of you.”

   “So?” You drag it out, curious as to where this is leading.

   He doesn’t look at you but you see the smirk in the lights flashing as you drive down the road. 

   “I believe rewards are in order.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will make Gavin a disaster bi in everything I write with him. You can't stop me.


	24. Rewards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Say, okay.” he repeats. It’s not aggressive, but it’s clear. He’s looking at you hungrily and you’re fully prepared to be devoured.
> 
> Softly, “Okay.”

   Okay, if this is what this dress is going to earn you, you're never taking it off. You're not even inside yet. You barely have your key in the door and he's peppering kisses along the nape of your neck. There’s a temptation to just stay here. Let him do this for the rest of the night. He seemed to have a plan though and you know better than to get in the way of that. You’ve probably already taken longer than he intended to just get the damn door open. You fumble with the key and manage enough coordination to open the lock.

   You finally make your way inside. He neatly hangs your coat on the rack. You work with the straps of your shoes and kick them off the rest of the way. The feeling of bare feet against the hardwood feels spectacular after the long night out. The tiredness you felt back at the office starts to settle in again.

   Giving the fatigue no time to take effect, you’re cornered back up against the door. A small giggle cut off by both his hands on the side of your face, lips on yours. It’s kind, and gentle, and a perfect companion to how drowsy you feel. Everything was so warm and comforting. You want to drown it. Let your reward just be an evening of soft kisses and cuddles. 

   That idea is quickly cast aside as things begin to get more heated. Kisses a bit faster, hungry. Fingers tangling in your hair. One of his knees pushes between your legs, giving you much needed support to stay on your feet. You grasp for anything you can, gripping into his blazer.

   You can’t figure out if you should focus on the glide of his lips and how perfectly they fit with yours, or to reciprocate the slight grinding against your hip. You roll your hips against his thigh, giving yourself some blissful friction and an incredible noise from him. In response, he tugs at your bottom lip with his teeth and your priority changes. You gladly moan into his mouth. Letting go of the blazer, you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. You needed him closer.

   Regardless of the fact that he’s documented every aspect of you, probably in duplicate, he takes the time to do it all over again. The smell of your sweat. The increase in your heartbeat. Irregularities in your breathing. The taste of your lipstick. Your subtle, and not so subtle, reactions to the smoothness of his tongue against your lips. 

   He motions for you to let go so he can remove the blazer. One of your hands clasps around the doorknob and the other finds its way into his hair for any kind of purchase. He takes advantage of the opening and repeats his earlier actions of kissing your neck. Open mouth kisses turn to more pointed and determined nips. 

   It was going to leave marks, he always did. They alone could be the sign of a job well done. You loved looking in the mirror after a scene and seeing the evidence of him on your skin. It’s a shame you could never do the same to his.  

   He senses your lack of focus and brings you back with a harsher bite. It pulls a sharp gasp from you and you scold yourself for not being able to control it. You can feel his satisfied hum against your neck. Another noise complaint wasn’t something you wanted to have to deal with in the morning but holding back your audible reactions was starting to get difficult. 

   He knew exactly what you liked, and how do it perfectly. No one has ever done to you the things he does and you were spoiled rotten to get them. Unfortunately for you, it also meant he knew exactly when to stop. Just how far he needed to go to have you on the edge and craving more. How far away to lean away from you when you longed for the contact so badly. The exact look to wear on his face while being just too far away, to drive you insane.

   Keeping his distance, “Did you have fun tonight?”

    He’s dragging it out. He knows you’re worked up and he knows you love this. You’re not sure where he’s going with it but you would follow that damned voice to the ends of the Earth. 

   You want to move your hips. You’re still sitting on his thigh. It would be an easy source of well needed pressure and friction. You would do it if he didn’t know you so well. He’s already holding onto you, ready to keep you in your place if he needs to.

   You nod, “Yes.”

   Tone shifting slightly, “I heard mention of a collar this evening. Is that something that interests you?”

   So he’d heard that little exchange. Stupid android hearing. You weren’t going to deny the idea was appealing. Fuck. Yes. It interested you greatly. In fact, you couldn’t think of anything you wanted more. They meant so much more than just a piece of jewellery and you want one so badly. 

   “I asked you a question.”

   You laugh a little, “For me or Gavin?”   

   “I’m sure either can be arranged with the proper persuasion.”

   “Oh my god, I’m kidding! Yes. I’d like one.” 

   “Wonderful,” He gently rests his index and middle fingers on your bottom lip,“ Now suck.”

   Opening your mouth, you eagerly comply. You know he doesn’t need your help but any kind of contact was heavenly, and this just gave implications of what’s to come. It was a power play you were weak to every time. 

   His hand slowly slips between your legs. He easily maneuvers past the band of your underwear. You’re already so wet, he’s able to just glide his fingers back and forth against you. You can’t help but rock against them. It feels so good. 

   A realization hits you. You stop moving and grab his hand. You were probably going to regret putting a hold on this but this was important.

   “Wait, wait.” You take some shaky breaths. He looks confused. You explain, “You’re always so focused on me. What-what can I do for you? If it’s my reward, I want you to feel good too. What can I do?”

   He smiles lovingly at you. He twists his wrist and takes your hand in his. He lifts it so it’s stretched above your head. He holds it high so that you have to stretch your abdomen. You can feel the muscles in your arm pull. Not painful but just enough where you can feel the ache. You raise your other hand up to match it. He wraps his fingers around both, keeping them in place. 

   He leans so his head is beside yours, mouth barely an inch from your ear. 

   “What I want is to hear every noise that comes out of your mouth. Every moan, every desperate whimper. Every tiny gasp, every pretty whine. Every needy little sound you can’t contain. I want to know exactly what I’m doing to you. I want to feel every movement you can’t help yourself from taking. I want to know that I am affecting you in a way even barely resembling what you do to me every moment of every day. That I cause your systems to become so overwhelmed that you; Can’t. Keep. Control. I want to be your end.  _ That _ is what you will do for me. Say okay.”

   You open your mouth but nothing but a whimper escapes.

   “Say, okay.” he repeats. It’s not aggressive, but it’s clear. He’s looking at you hungrily and you’re fully prepared to be devoured.

   Softly, “Okay.” 

   “Good girl.” 

   He pulls away completely again and his free hand continues with you. He’s insidiously slow. Every pump of his fingers deliberate to draw the most out of you. Taking the time to tease you until you’re a complete mess under him, as if it’s difficult to do. Tears prick your shut eyes. You’re so tired and you’re falling apart. It’s hard to stand on your own. Incoherent pleas quickly begin to fall from your lips. 

   “Nines, please.”

   His voice is infuriatingly collected, “Please what? I can’t provide unless you’re more specific.”

   “Anything. Faster. You. Please. Please you.” 

   He speeds up just enough for you to notice, “I do enjoy it when you beg. Do it more.”

   You sob, “Just, anything. I need you. Need you so badly. Nines, please. I love you so much. Please, please, please.”

   He presses closer. Voice low, nearly a growl, finally sounding affected, “Say it again.”

   “Please,” you whine. You want to bask in having the upperhand for once, but you’re too out of it.

   He stops his fingers, “Before that.”

   You take the moment of confusion to take a few deep breaths, “I love you?”

   He closes his eyes, his LED yellow, “That.”

   “I love you. I love you so fucking much, just please don’t stop again.”

   You’re not sure how you get the full sentence out but you’re rewarded for your efforts. You continue to repeat the words in low gasps as he indulges you completely. His grip on your wrists tightens and his pace quickens. His thumb making small circles on your clit.

   He kisses you for just a moment and begins to whisper in your ear. Though, you’re so distracted by what’s happening to you, you can barely make out the words.

   “You’ve been so good for me tonight haven’t you?”

   You give him a broken but eager sound of agreement. How does he expect you to speak coherently at a time like this? The things he could do with his voice. You could get off on it alone and he knew it.

   He continues to praise you, “Yes. I do believe you deserve this treat, don’t you?”

   You nod furiously. You’d be mad at how calm he is right now but you feel so good that you forget to care.  

   “Speak, my love.”

   You groan, needing to release the pent up energy. Tired of the delay. You remind yourself he knows what he’s doing, and that it’ll be worth it in the end.

   Voice shaky, “Yes. Yes. I deserve this.”

   He plants a small kiss below your ear, “Yes you do. You’ve done everything you’ve been told. Look at you, clinging to me. You’re so beautiful like this. You would do anything I tell you to, wouldn’t you? You would do it with a smile on your face and a ‘yes sir’. You love it. All because you’re mine. You’re mine and I love you so much it almost killed me.”

   You’re gone. Your eyes are closed and the world around you has disappeared. All you can focus on is the feeling of him inside you. Your muscles tense around his fingers. Your hands on his shoulders, digging your nails into him. You’re so close it hurts. 

   An unexpected bite to your neck is what tips you. You don’t have time to warn him but you know didn’t need you to. You scream as your climax rushes you. You lose all balance and fall forward into him. He swiftly lets go of your hands and catches you. Arms wrap around you and pull you close. 

   You’re body still pulsing but trying to find your breath again. Drenched in sweat. Sticky. Legs ache like you just ran a marathon. You’re practically euphoric but also ready to sleep for the next year and a half. You dig your face into his shoulder. 

   You giggle, high on the endorphins, “That was amazing.”

   “Oh, my apologies [Y/N], I seemed to have given you the impression we were finished.”

   “What?”

   “Did I mention that I recently downloaded the upgrade that allows taste? My brother suggested it. I haven’t tested the new feature but I think I can take advantage of the opportunity now.”

   You let out a surprised yelp as he picks you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips for stability. He gently sets you down on the couch. He rests on the floor in front of you, between your spread legs. 

   His hands are warm on your thighs. He pushes the hem of your dress up your hips until you’re in full view for him. He begins to press light kisses to your knee. His grip falling down to your calves. 

   The show was really for you. To see the most dangerous machine in existence, brought to his knees before you. The focus being solely on you; your pleasure. Almost like worship; like he needed to satisfy you to survive. He had his mission and if the look in his eyes was any indication, he was set on accomplishing it.    

   “You know,’ a hoarse laugh, “You said I could take the dress off when we got home.”

   He squeezes his fingers. Not looking up at you, to busy admiring the shape of your legs, “I changed my mind.”

   You smile to yourself. Okay. Calm yourself. You could handle this just as calmly as he could. You’re capable of breathing normally as he slides your panties down your legs and tosses them across the room. You can keep your cool while he nibbles up your thigh. You’re able to keep a straight face when he looks up at you, bright eyed, silently asking permission he knows he already has and doesn’t need. You remain still when he smirks and winks at you. 

   All composure is gone with the first swipe of his tongue against you. You take a sharp breath and cover your mouth with the palm of your hand. The other hand gripping into the cushion beneath you. You were still wet from your last orgasm. It was clearly appreciated, as he moves to get every bit of you. He hums against you and you stifle a moan with the hand already at your mouth. 

   He pulls away to look at you and it’s an incredible sight. Bordering on something that should be illegal. You’ve never seen his hair so disheveled and you try to memorize it for later. His mouth and nose shining with liquid. Just the sight of him like this could ruin you. His artificial breath against you sending shivers up your spine and goosebumps to litter your arms. 

   He loosens his tie and removes it. He reaches to take your hands in his and restrains them. Not the first time it’s been used for this. He likes knots. The man can do things with rope you couldn’t dream of. You test your motion and wordlessly show him you’re secure.

   “I recall telling you I wanted to hear you. Do not let me catch you suppressing yourself again. I expect better of you.”  

   You shake your head, “It won’t happen again.”

   He smiles, “Please remember to breath as well. I do like you alive.”

   He releases your hands and takes no time returning to his previous actions, less gracefully than before. You comb your fingers through his hair to keep them occupied. You count your breaths to try to focus on something other than the feeling of his nose very deliberately nudging against your clit. The suspiciously calculated movements of his tongue catch your attention.

   You laugh a little in disbelief. Between pants, you ask, “Are you seriously spelling your name right now? That’s like the oldest trick in the book.”

   You feel him laugh against you, caught in the act. You’re gifted no answer but he changes technique. You whimper at the new sensation. Squeezing your legs together instinctively and gripping his hair tighter, you end up pushing his face deeper. He knew you were close and he was just showing off at this point, slowing his pace to postpone the events on for as long as he decided he wanted them to. He’s made it clear on more than one occasion that he likes how you squirm.

   You could probably spend the rest of your life like this. However, you were riding the edge and it was starting to become unbearable. You grind yourself against his face in an attempt to get him to speed up, for him to get the message.

   Muffled, “Use your words.”

   “Nines. I’m so close. Please just let me cum already. I’ve been good. Please. This is supposed to be for me. I love you but you’re driving me insane. Please.” you beg.

   He can’t deny you. You moan his name as he works you to your second orgasm of the night. You let out a noise you’re not exactly proud of. Your neighbours have every right to hate you. 

   “Are we done now? Tired.” Barely had to do a thing since you got home but you’re still exhausted.  

   A few kisses to your inner thigh brings your gaze down. Eyes meeting yours, he chooses then to lick his lips. He rests his head against your leg. 

   “We can be. Thank you for the learning experience.”

   You smile and shove him away from your lap, “Dork.”

   He stands and leans over to kiss you, “Everything I taste from now on will have to compare to you. I have a feeling it will be a tough act to follow.”

   Well that’s just not fair. 

   “I’m going to run a bath, then you can sleep. Sit tight.” 

   “You’re going to untie me right?”

   “What part of ‘sit tight’ did you misunderstand?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like realizing after almost a decade of fic writing and reading, you've never actually written smut. If this sucked, I'm sorry. Please give us a call and you'll get a full refund.


	25. Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Open your stupid presents. Mine first.”
> 
> “Are you implying your gifts are stupid?”
> 
> “Just open them!”

   You hadn’t been able to make it to family for the holidays. Planes were always so expensive this time of year. Also, you didn’t want to miss spending your first Christmas with Nines. You’d asked Hank if you could spend the day at his place. He didn’t have anyone other than Connor and Nines to celebrate with so he welcomed your company. 

   Spending the holidays at Hank’s was definitely unorthodox. Half of the people in the house don’t eat and the other two don’t know how to cook, so take out was your best friend. There wasn’t a huge pile of gifts under the tree. There was minimal decoration and no carols playing in the background. You wouldn’t trade it for anything though. Especially with Connor being almost as excited about the holidays as you are. 

   You’re sat on the couch. Nines at your side, arm around your shoulders. Sumo sleeping at your feet. Lap stacked with gifts. Hank was so used to just having Connor that instead of taking turns between gifts, each person opened all their gifts at once. 

   You’d gotten Hank a new mug that said ‘Father of some dumbass kids.” You made it yourself. He was one push away from adopting all three of you so it seemed appropriate. He immediately poured his drink into it so it’s easy to assume he liked it. Connor got him some jazz vinyls to add to his collection. Nines scored him some Knights of the Black Death tickets. 

   Connor would’ve loved anything you gave him, even if it was just a piece of paper telling him that you appreciated his friendship. Luckily for him, you did the next best thing. He was always so much more willing to indulge you in things like taking photos together or accompanying you on adventures than Nines was. You’d put them all together into a terribly cliché scrapbook for him. 

   “I know you have all the memories backlogged but-” 

   “No!” He starts flipping through the pages, “This is a wonderful set of reminders. This is the time we went to the library! And the candy factory! Oh, I like this picture of us at the zoo. And the aquarium? Thank you so much [Y/N]. You even added the dates and some notes on each. I love it. I look forward to looking through it more in depth later.”

   “I’m really glad you like it.” 

   Hank got him one of the ugliest and most festive sweaters you’ve ever seen. The itchy kind that your grandmother gets you and you’re forced to wear it for the rest of the day. Connor’s already wearing it and he somehow make it work.

   Nines got him a collection of books on human psychology, “Since you seem so fascinated on understanding them.”

   “You feel things too Nines.” Connor says back, with an undeniable amount of attitude.

   Nines tightens his arm around you, “It wasn’t exactly by choice.”  

   “Oh boo hoo. Poor you.” you mock him, “Open your stupid presents. Mine first.”

   “Are you implying your gifts are stupid?”

   “Just open them!”

   It had been really hard to figure out what to get him. Searching for ‘what to get your crime solving android dom boyfriend for christmas’ doesn’t provide anything particularly helpful. Not to mention keeping things a surprise from him was nearly impossible. His investigative nature extended past just work and you had to keep changing hiding spots. 

   You didn’t think he would find much use for material objects unless they provided some sort of benefit to him. Much like Connor used his coin for calibration and reflex exercises, Nines had a small butterfly knife. You’ve spend hours watching him play with it. He’d cover it up as challenging himself but you knew the tricks he was learning was to impress you. The one he had was pretty plain and the blade was relatively dull.

   “My love, you know I already own a knife.”

   “Well, yeah. But this one is more tactical and you can use it in the field. It’s also better steel, and it’s got screws instead of pins so you can adjust it. It’s like a real knife instead of the basic thing Cyber gave you.”

   “You did research.” His LED yellow, trying to figure out how he missed it.

   “Yeah, Gavin knows a guy who knows a guy. Also, Connor helped me with communications you couldn’t find.”

   Nines shoots Connor a questioning look. Connor responds silently by just radiating pride. A small payback for his previous comments. 

   “Do you like it? Because there’s more just in case.”

   He kisses your temple, “Of course I like it. Maybe you can start practicing with the other one.”

   “Yeah, sure. Open the other one!” You were excited about this one so you really wanted to see his reaction as quickly as possible. 

   He unwraps the decorative box. You’d started writing down your thoughts months ago. Letters to yourself and to him, poems, small notes of memories you wanted to revisit later, journal entries you wrote on your phone between cases or late at night. You weren’t sure when you were going to give it to him, or if all, but you could always redo it every year. He opens it and you see the disorderly state of it all. Random scraps of papers, napkins, printed pages of typed text, stapled together lined pages, post it notes, scribbles on the back of receipts. 

   “What is this?” he asks.

   “Explanation or cheesy line?” 

   “Line then explain.”

   “It’s my undying love for you in written form. It’s a collection of writings regarding my thoughts on you, our relationship, and our future, all that jazz. The newer stuff is on the top. You’d had such a hard time understanding your feelings, I wanted you to see I did too.”

   “Thank you. This will be very informative.” he picks up a pink paper you recognize as something you’d rather not have read, right now, in this setting, “Of course, I’ll have to hear you read them to properly catalogue it. We can do that later.”

   He places it back in the box and carefully closes the clasp. He rests it on the floor and opens his gift from Hank. A set of cookbooks.

   “Since I know you do most of the cooking and you weren’t exactly programmed for that. Thought you could use some inspiration.” Hank explains.

   “Thank you. This will be very helpful.” 

   Connor hands Nines his gift. Unwrapping it reveals a book on knot tying.

   “I’ve seen you show an interest and heard [Y/N] mention your affinity for the hobby to Officer Chen. I thought you might find this useful.”

   You knew you could blush. You’d done it plenty of times. You were doing it now at the idea of Connor even possibly knowing about the relevance. But in all the time you’ve known Nines, you’ve never seen embarrassment so clear on his face. His LED red, and a slight blue tinge was taking over his face. Hank’s chuckle driving it further.

   “Thank you Connor. I appreciate the support.” It’s forced, his social programming taking over, “Perhaps it’s time for [Y/N] to open hers.”

   “Yes! Open mine first.” Connor points at the thin package on your lap. 

   You pick it up and gently pull the wrapping paper from it. It’s another reference book. This one on poisonous plants. Opening the book allows a slip of paper to fall from it. Reading the slip tells you that Connor plans for the two of you to take a trip to a famous garden you thought had faded away decades ago. 

   “Thank you so much! This is perfect.”

   “I’m glad you like it.” 

   Hank’s gift was a box set of another crime drama you hadn’t gotten the chance to watch during its original run. He insists that you’d love it and that the main character will be scarily familiar.

   “Nines where are yours?” You ask, your lap empty.

   “If it’s okay with everyone, I’d like to give them privately.” he addresses the room. Standing, he takes your hand for you to join him.

   “Is it weird?” Hank asks, “Because I don’t want that shit in my house. Go home for that.”

   “No Hank. There are just sentiments that I’d appreciate being able to say with discretion.”

   “Okay but if I hear anything, you’re in hot water.” Hank takes a sip from his new mug. 

   Nines guides you to his and Connor’s shared room. He opens a drawer in the dresser and pulls out two things. A small box and an envelope. He hands you the black box first.

   You open it and find a necklace. The charm a silver ring, strikingly similar to his LED. On either side, a thin chain. Removing it from the box, you notice it doesn’t have a typical clasp. Nines takes it and interfaces with the lock, opening it. He holds it out for you to take. 

   “You wanted a collar.” he says, nervously. “I did a lot of research to make sure I understood the importance of the gesture. I want you to understand that I know what you wearing this means. That I am committed to this relationship, and what we have. That I have a responsibility to make sure you feel safe, important, respected, and desired. I understand what this represents and I plan to honor it. It also a reminder for you. Every time you see yourself in the mirror, or feel it shifting, you will remember me. Of what I am to you, and what you are to me. Of the promises I’m making.

   This one seemed subtle enough for your taste, and I quite like how it allows us to match. That clasp can only be opened by me, but I can get that changed if it makes you uncomfortable at this stage. If you’ll accept it.”

   You nod, taking all your energy to fight the tears. You turn and back up so he can place it on you. The ring isn’t heavy but you can feel it’s distinctive weight on your chest. It feels like comfort. You toy with the ring between your fingers.

   “Do you like it?”

   “You idiot. Of course I do.”

   “There’s more.”

   “More?”

   “Yes.” He hands you the envelope. 

   “What’s this?”

   “Open it.”

   You gently open it, careful to not tear it. You unfold the paper and start reading it. It’s some sort of paperwork but you’ve never seen anything like it.

   Excited, “Its registry paperwork.”

   “What do you mean?”

   “I was previously registered to the DPD. If anything happened to me, it would be their responsibility. They owned me. Androids post revolution don’t require registration. Some choose to throw their registries into the fire, and some found safety and comfort in staying in their contracts. Once I deviated, I felt it was best to just stay with the DPD instead of working to change or discard it. 

   However, things have changed. I’ve come to trust you completely. I know that I am incredibly important to you and you continuously put my needs before your own, regardless of my fights against it. You have my best interests in mind at all times. So, I’ve chosen to belong to you. As long as you sign the paperwork. You’d my maintenance advocate. If anything happens to me, they would have to report to you for decisions regarding my care.”

   “You're mine? Well I mean you’re not property, you know that but the-” 

   "The symbolism is there, yes." he begins to play with the ring of the necklace, 'and you're mine the same way."

   You chuckle, "Well now I feel like my gifts are dumb." 

   "Don’t talk about yourself like that. They showed creativity, awareness, and significance. They were perfect, much like yourself."

   “Dork.” You push yourself up to kiss him.

   “Hank, you were right! They’re doing weird stuff!” Connor shouts from the doorway.

   “Connor!” Nines shouts.

   You laugh and drape yourself over Nines. Dramatically, you cry out, “Oh Nines! More! Please!”

   Connor laughs but it’s cut off by the pillow his brother whips at him, “Get out!”

   “This is my room! You don’t live here anymore!” he retaliates.

   “Out!”

   Connor closes the door with a smile on his face. You chuckle and he wraps an arm around your waist. You look up and poke his cheek.

   “Merry Christmas Nines.”

   The frown dissipates, “Merry Christmas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy it while it lasts.


	26. Wilting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Samuel Rayon. We’re here from the DPD. I’m sure you’re tired of talking to us but my partner and I are just here to ask you some questions. I apologize for your door.” 
> 
> The man nods, “Of course. I apologize for the smell.”

   Over the holidays, the strychnine case had gone cold and other cases took priority. With the new year, a lull hit the station so the pair of you took the chance to revisit it. Over dinner at Hank’s, you’d made a connection. Connor and Hank let you have the table while you were on a roll, and sat in the other room.

   “We could look into every online seller. They have to be getting the seeds somewhere.”

   “You think the killer is growing the plant themselves.”

   “Well it’s not exactly commonly accessible. You can’t just pull the crystals out of the pesticides. You said they were turned botanists.”

   There’s no guarantee that the transaction, buyer, or seller are traceable.”

    "Well it’s a start.  I know there’s a small community of people that try to grow the stuff for research purposes. Maybe we could track some recent forums for something? It grows into a tree. How do you hide a fucking tree?”

   “How do marijuana growers hide basements full of plants?”

   “Wait no. No. That’s a good idea. Weed costs. You need a set of decent hydroponics to keep a worthwhile crop of plants going.”

   “True.”

   “And it smells.”

   “Strychnine is odorless.”

   “Once it’s processed. Is the plant? It wouldn’t stink as much as weed but still.”

   Hank walks into the kitchen. He’d been trying to give you space while you worked, “How’s it going you two?”

   “Could be better. How about you? We could use a distraction. Tell us about your day.”

   He shrugs, “We got a report earlier today about an apartment smelling of rotting meat. They checked it out but there wasn’t anything suspicious. Nothing except for the whole place looking like a damn greenhouse. Flowers all over the place. He had an orange tree out on his balcony too. 

   You and Nines look at each other, then back to Hank.

   “Strychnine doesn’t smell, but Titan Arum does! And strychnine looks like oranges when it’s growing. Hank, where was it?”

   “It was an apartment building downtown. I can send it to Nines.”

   “Did you know the guy’s name?”

   “Um, Samuel Rayon I think.”

   You look at Nines. His LED is yellow as he does a background check, “Worked at Cyberlife for years. Fired recently.”

* * *

   The apartment building couldn’t possibly be up to code. You’re surprised that they didn’t nail the owners with that for wasting officers' time. Paint peeling, windows boarded up. The elevator isn’t working so you take the stairs. You knock on the door, no answer. 

   You raise your voice, “Detroit police, open up. We just want to ask some questions.”

   Still no answer. Maybe he wasn’t home. You could come back another time. You don’t even have any real evidence other than a hunch. Not even a warrant yet. If it is your killer, you didn’t want to scare him off by having another set of cops showing up within the same 24 hours.

   A loud crash startles you. Unprompted, Nines has kicked the door off its hinges. You shoot him a look. He shrugs and leads the way into the dirty apartment. So much for the subtle approach.

   The stench hits you first. It reminds you of the time you came to a scene where the body had been discovered weeks late. You do your best to shield your nose with the collar of your shirt. You glance at Nines, seemingly unaffected. 

   The second thing you notice is the overwhelming about of plants littered around. You wander through the foliage, pointing out the ones you recognize.  He’s lucky they hadn’t sent an android in because they would’ve identified every plant in the place. Connor probably would've found a way to make a game out of it.

   “Foxglove. Hemlock. Bella donna.” You crouch down to inspect it closer, “The berries are missing though. That must be for the next batch. We'll have to be on the look out.”

   “Can I help you?” a new voice comes from behind you. You turn to see a man, not much older than yourself. Blond hair, green eyes, average male build and height. Wouldn't look twice if you saw him the street. You open your mouth to introduce yourself but you’re cut off.

   “Samuel Rayon. We’re here from the DPD. I’m sure you’re tired of talking to us but my partner and I are just here to ask you some questions. I apologize for your door.” 

   The man nods, “Of course. I apologize for the smell.”

   Nines continues, a smile on his face, “It’s okay. I can turn my sensors off. Apologize to her. My partner here isn’t nearly as lucky.”

   Where was this level of humor coming from? You’ve never seen Nines behave like this with a suspect. It’s always, ask some questions, cuffs, then back down to the precinct. No games. What did he see that you didn't?

   “When did the smell start?” Nines asks.

   “A few days ago. I have a bit of a passion for plants, as you can see.” Sam gestures around the apartment. “It’s from my latest addition.”

   “Titan Arum.” You answer.

   He smiles at you, “Yes. Exactly.”

   Nines asks, “Do you mind giving us a tour? We heard about the collection back at the station and my partner is a bit of a plant enthusiast as well.”

   “Sure! It’s nice to meet someone else who knows what they’re talking about.”

   He takes you two around the apartment, pointing out the non lethal pieces. He didn’t come across as the type of person who would kill multiple people, but looks can be deceiving. Seemed like a regular guy with a bit of an obsession for flora. There wasn’t even a hint of disrespect to Nines. 

   “There’s some more on the balcony, if you’d like to take a look.” Sam adds.

   “I think I will. Thank you.” Nines nods at him. 

   You go to follow him onto the balcony but Sam takes your arm, “Detective, how do you feel about having an android partner?”

   There it is, “He’s amazing at his job. He’s skilled, quick, and professional. We work very well together.”

   “Do you ever wish you had a human partner?”

   You shrug from his grip, “Not once. Why do you ask?”

   “It’s interesting to see how much our world has become dominated by technology. It’s why I’ve become so connected to these plants. They need to be, deserve to be preserved.”

   “I suppose so.”

   “Organic life is becoming obsolete. Androids will outlive us. So many of them have already deviated, and now Cyberlife is enabling them to be more human? How long until they realize they don’t need to keep being peaceful?”

   Where was Nines? 

   Sam continues, “They’re in our homes. They’re used as soldiers in our wars. We rely on them. Soon we will be cast to the wayside and there will be nothing left for the planet to grow back from. We have to start focusing on our own preservation before it’s too late. Before organic life goes extinct. 

   Plant based weaponry is underrated. Their machines are killing us, using plants to kill them is the ultimate message. However, I’m not afraid to use any means I need to.”

   Quickly, before you can process it, he’s aiming a gun at you. How hadn’t you seen it on him before? Had Nines? Where the hell was he? 

   You can see that Sam is hesitant. He’s shaking and sweating. It all feels very familiar but so drastically different at the same time. Samuel has killed before. It was indirect but it takes a certain mindset to be okay with that guilt. He was unstable and way too close for comfort.

   You raise your hands and try to speak calmly, “Samuel. I’m not sure what-”

   “We’ve had our eyes on you for a while Detective. Do you think a group like ours wouldn’t know the name of the officer working on our case? I knew the Titan Arum would draw you out. I didn’t think it would be so quickly but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

   “Sam. We can talk about this. We’re both rational adults.” 

   Slowly, you begin to reach for your own weapon on your hip. Behind you, you hear a door open. The balcony door. You’re not sure what Samuel sees, but it causes his eyes to widen and shift his aim to your partner.

   ‘Seriously? Do none of you fight your own battles anymore? Everything is fucking technology now.”

   You watch Nines casually walk past you, towards your attacker. He’s practically strolling across the room, like there’s no danger at all. A gunshot rings and you see the blue quickly stain the shoulder blade of Nines’ jacket. Completely unfazed, Nines continues to march forward. He easily rips the gun from Samuel’s hand, removes the clip, and tosses it to the ground in seconds, like it’s nothing but a toy being taken away from a disobedient child.

   Sam steps backwards, suddenly becoming very aware of the predicament he’s put himself into and the threat he’s created. He shoots a look at you, terrified, desperate. Nines steps to block his view. 

   “Don’t look at her.” Nines snaps, voice cold. It’s an anger you’ve never heard from him before, “Don’t even think about her. She’s not going to save you. If I believed in the concept, I would say you’re lucky Samuel. If it were up to me, I would have you suffer. I would have you watch as I destroyed every plant in this apartment beyond recognition or salvation. 

   Then I would move on to you. I’m sure you’re aware of the multitude of programs to hurt you that I have to choose from.”

   He pauses for a second. It’s purpose you can only assume to be for Samuel’s imagination to take hold. Alarmingly, he laughs softly before speaking again. 

   “Though, a funny thing about deviancy is that in the short time I’ve been speaking, I’ve already created some of my own ways that I think would be much more interesting. I think something akin to a child pulling individual petals off a flower would be appropriate.”

   From your skewed view, you can just make out Nines imitating the delicate action with his fingers as he speaks, “Fortunately for you, the DPD is going to want you alive for questioning. So if you cooperate, I won’t be forced to take action. Am I understood?” 

   Sam glances towards the entrance way and breaks into to run. He doesn’t get far. Nines quickly grabs the back of his collar, stopping him. A choked noise comes from Sam as he is pulled back. Nines turns him around and promptly slams him face first into the wall. One hand keeping Sam pinned by the head, the other holding a gun to his lower back.

   “Allow me to repeat myself. The DPD wants you alive. If you continue to resist, I will not hesitate to use force. Do you understand?”

   “Fuck you.” he spits.

   Nines pulls Sam’s head back by his hair and smashes it back into the wall. “This is your last warning. Do I make myself clear?”

   “I’m not going to lose to a machine.” Sam’s voice altered by his now likely broken nose.

   Sam swings his weight around. He managed to knock the gun out of Nines’ hand and stupidly goes to land a punch. Nines catches the fist and kicks him in the stomach. The impact has Sam’s back against the wall.

   Finally realizing he’s outpowered, Sam trips over to a messy desk and grabs a chunky device from it. He fiddles with it and Nines suddenly stops dead in his tracks. Frozen but wrong. He’s rigid, like all life has been pulled from him. His LED a blaring red. 

   In what feels like slow motion you watch as he loses balance, slumping down to his knees. Stare at his body falling to the side with a crash. You hear the distinctive crack of his head hitting the floor. His eyes were wide open but you could tell he wasn’t there. Thirium already starting to pool under his head.

   “What the fuck did you just do?” Your voice sounds odd, unfamiliar. 

   Samuel takes a deep breath, the danger gone, “It’s a simple scrambler. Every member has one. Created by yours truly. Don’t know why I didn’t just do this the second you two walked in. Don’t worry though. It shouldn’t destroy him, just render him useless for a few days. Just fries their circuits a bit. The blow to the head might though. Hope you weren’t too attached.” He seemed proud of himself, amused.

   Every fiber in your body acts against you. You’re on your feet and closing the distance fast. There’s a brief second of fear on his face before you land a hit that knocks you both to the ground. You start hitting him and you don’t stop. Not until he struggles his way out of your grip and crawls away from you. He was too disoriented to stand or fight back. Relying solely on self preservation instincts.

   You stand and draw your gun. Your hands are covered in blood, whether it’s yours or his isn’t important. His face is torn up but you can still see the pure panic in his eyes. You kick him in his chest and rest your foot on his neck, pressure increasing by the second. Your gun aimed at his forehead.

   “Give me one reason I shouldn’t fucking kill you right now.”

   “I know Who and where the others are.” He says quickly. Noting your hesitation, “I can help you fix him.”

   You weigh your options. It’s weak, but he could be useful. You wanted this shit done with and having even a half dead witness on your side is better than nothing. 

   “Samuel Rayon, you are under arrest for the murders of Nora Casey, Alex May, and George Parson; and the assault of DPD officers. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights?”

   “Damaged your toy too. Don’t forget that. I think it’s a fine.” Sarcasm wasn't a smart play.

   You adjust your grip on the gun, “Fuck you.”

   “Don’t tell me you cared for it? You know it’s completely inorganic, right? Any feelings it had for you is just the remnants of social programming. They’re fake, Detective. It doesn’t have a brain. It’s just a piece of plastic and metal. You meant nothing to it.”

   There’s no time to second guess yourself between his words and your fingers pulling the trigger. Almost perfectly between his eyes. You were going to have to go to the range and work on that. You shouldn’t have been even the tiniest bit off at such a close range; you were better than this.  

   Could you have used the crucial insight Sam had? Sure. Were you going to be able to stand listening to his voice any longer? Not in the slightest. Was it overkill to stomp his neck at full force? Absolutely.

   Almost on cue, back up Nines must have called, flood the apartment. Snapped out of your near black out rage daze by the sound, you whip around and dart over next to Nines. Kneeling beside him, you weren't sure what you were supposed to do. Were you supposed to touch him? Was he self repairing? Were you supposed to treat him like you would with a human? What the fuck were you supposed to do? Why didn’t they have a class on Android First Aid?

   You’re just hovering your hands over him. Vision starting to go blurry from the tears building. You wish you had any of his scanners so you knew what the hell was happening with him. You need to know if he was going to be okay. He needed to be okay.

   A pair of officers you recognize approach you. They were the ones that dealt with injured androids. They were here for him. The sight of caretakers should’ve put you at ease but instead the idea of Nines going back to Cyberlife rips through you. A wordless scream erupts from you when they get too close. It’s nearly animalistic. They pause and look at each other, confused as to how to proceed. 

   You shield his body with yours. No. They weren’t going to take him. They can’t. They were just going to reset him. They were going to reset him or just dump him in the trash and replace him with someone else. 

   Would you even make the cut if they did? Is your existence important enough that they’d let him remember you at all? Would they set him back and you’d have to do it all over again? Could you do it again? It’d never be the same even if was still him. The thought of him having to go through the pain of deviating again brings another round of tears. 

   You dig your fingers into his jacket and bury your face in his chest. The familiar warmth he’d set himself at for you was gone. He’s too far gone for there to even be any residual. You don’t care that you’re throwing a tantrum. You don’t care that you’re falling apart in front of so many co workers. You don’t care.  

   He’d reprimand you for making such a scene. You’d have some snarky remark and he’d let you win. He’d tell you he loved you regardless of your humanity and kiss your lips and everything would be okay. Was this morning’s wake up kiss the last one you were ever going to get? Why didn’t you appreciate it enough? Why didn’t you appreciate him enough?

   There’s hands on you, source unknown. You scream again at the contact and curl yourself tighter. There was no way you were going to let go. They couldn’t make you. They’d have to kill you. You weren’t going to let go of him. Of the best thing you’ve ever had your whole life. If they wanted him they were going to have to pry him from your bleeding fingers. You didn’t want a new one. You wanted this one. He’s yours. He said so. He was yours and they were going to take him away from you. 

   “[Y/N], please.” Connor’s soft voice gets through to you. It sounds nearly as desperate as yours.

   Within the brief moment you take to consider how Connor must be feeling, he and Hank manage to pull you off Nines. You’re covered in thirium, his thirium. Huge blotches of bright blue and red are scattered across your arms, shirt soaked. Your fingers are a sickening shade of purple. Connor’s hands are on your shoulders and Hank’s around your waist. They keep you restrained as you’re forced to watch the other officers take your boyfriend away, possibly the last you’d ever see of him.

   You thrash and flail against their grips. Scratching at Hank’s skin in an attempt for him to loosen his hold. Legs kicking. Trying to drop your weight so they’d fall with you. Nothing was working. There was nothing you could do to stop them.

   You screech at them every second until you can’t see him anymore. It feels like you’re tearing your throat screaming for them to stop, to wait, to let you go, to let you at least go with him. They had to let you go with him. You beg through choked sobs, for anyone to listen to you. For anyone to understand. Why didn’t anyone understand?

   Eventually you exhaust yourself. Nausea and a severe headache taking over. There’s no use fighting anymore. It’s over.

   With your reduced struggle, you’re brought back to the office. Everyone is cautious around you. Delicate words used by those with the courage to approach the broken, bloody, livid version of you. You can muster little in response. 

   You don’t speak to Hank or Connor, straight up ignoring them if needed. They understand. Connor dives headfirst into the paperwork. Hank. Hank heads home early. 

   Someone brings you the first cup of coffee you’ve had in weeks. Maybe it was Gavin showing decency for once because you take a sip and it’s absolutely terrible. You’d forgotten how bitter the shit is, especially the office stuff. You try adding milk and sugar but nothing fixes it. Barely a few sips in, you toss it in the trash. Great, so coffee was ruined forever.

   Later that day, some guys from Cyberlife show up. They bring you his jacket. That’s all you get of him. It’s still covered in dried thirium when they give it to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this scene took the longest to write and was the most emotionally exhausting.


	27. Desperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You stop at your desk, taking a seat for a minute. Fingers gliding over the keyboard for a second. Maybe you were ready to come back. Sure, the empty desk across from yours made you want to cry but you could get used to it again. You wrap the jacket around you tighter.

   They’d taken him back to Cyberlife. All you’ve been told is that Kamski took him almost immediately. Wanted to work on him personally now that he’d heard about PLANTS. You weren’t sure why and it did little to ease your pain. They weren’t telling you anything. They were supposed to tell you. It’s been a week and you haven’t even heard if they can save him. You didn’t know anything about his condition, or when or if he was coming back. You’d called and emailed but you didn’t get anything other than automated responses. You even resorted to asking Gavin if he could talk to his brother. He took pity on you, and was maybe a little scared of you, but said he couldn’t get anything either. 

   Your apartment has never felt so uncomfortably empty. You’d lived alone for so long, you thought you’d be fine. It’s not like he had much in the way of physical trinkets to remind you of him, but the air was wrong. It felt wrong to be in bed alone. To wake up cold. To drive yourself home. To not see him sitting on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, reading. To not have his voice. To walk out of your room to the same mess you’d left the night before and the slowly dwindling groceries. 

   You didn’t want to do anything. You didn’t go to work. Fowler told you not to but you knew you should be. You should be working twice as hard to figure it all out. Find the others and solve the case without him. Prove you could do it solo. You should be angry out of your mind but instead you’re just exhausted.

   Therapy was something you were supposed to be going to. Kill someone at close range for the first time and watch your boyfriend die; it’s a lot for one day. It’s covered by insurance but talking to someone about what happened was nowhere close to the top of your priority list.

   You didn’t answer calls. You barely left bed. All you wanted was sleep, but sleep led to nightmares. Recreations and alternatives, how you should’ve done things. Sleep wasn’t much of an option. Eating wasn’t a very appealing activity either. You couldn’t even find the energy to cry anymore, though dehydration probably wasn’t helping. You know he would be angry at you for your self destruction but it’s not like he was around to shame you for it.

   Connor would come visit, making sure you were keeping yourself alive. You knew he was hurting too, but you can barely support yourself, let alone him. You wanted to help him through this but you just couldn’t. 

   He told you that the case had gone to him and Hank until you were ready to come back. It gave him an excuse to drag you to Hank’s for dinner. To get you out of the house, eating, talking, and to the office to review files. 

   You held onto the jacket like it was your life source. After some serious internal struggle, you found the strength to wash it. You wore around the apartment. You slept with it at night. You didn’t leave the house without it resting on your shoulders. 

   Finally an e-mail came in. Apparently Kamski wanted to make sure Sam’s stupid toy didn’t give them any of Nines’ data. Something about having pride in his work. They weren’t sure what exactly what he was going to need but you said they could do anything they wanted. You just wanted him back. Chloe did a very good job of making you feel a little more hopeful.

    You were visiting the office to drop off some files you’d found at home to Connor. He was off on his break with Hank. Hopefully he was going to be able to pull something useful from them. They'd been able to find some possible connections to Samuel and brought them in at least. You were glad something was getting done. 

    You stop at your desk, taking a seat for a minute. Fingers gliding over the keyboard for a second. Maybe you were ready to come back. Sure, the empty desk across from yours made you want to cry but you could get used to it again. You wrap the jacket around you tighter.

   “Oh that’s where it went.” a voice comes from behind you. 

   You don’t want to turn around. Facing him would solidify it. Whether it was him or not. Whether you had him back, or lost him forever. What they were able to salvage. For the first time, Nines’ voice scares you. 

   “I’ve startled you. My apologies. I thought it you might find the joke comforting.” 

   You take a deep breath and spin the chair. It looked like him at least. Standing there, arms behind his back, a soft smile on his face with just the slightest hint of hesitation. He was wearing his usual outfit, minus the jacket. They did a really good job of fixing the fracture, if it wasn’t just a replacement piece. 

   You wanted to trust it. You needed it to be him like you needed air. You wanted to throw yourself into his arms and never let go. Tell him that you were never going to let this happen to him again. You wanted to but knew you needed to be careful. 

   “You’re cautious. I understand that you may be having difficulty trusting that it’s me and not a reset or replacement model. It’s a completely justified wariness. So much so, that I anticipated it. I had two weeks of semi consciousness to find a way to authenticate myself upon my return as your living, feeling, partner. I brought you this.”  

   He reveals what was hidden behind his back. A clear plastic container. He hands it to you and you carefully accept it. You open the container and a strong smell of baked goods hits your senses. It was biscotti. It was chocolate and almond biscotti and it looked homemade.

   You look up at him and open your mouth to speak but he talks first.

   “I saw everything at the Rayon apartment. My systems were malfunctioning but I could still watch the events unfolding in front of me. I saw the confrontation. I watched you feel and be so incredibly human. Then I had to watch you hurt, so much. I can assure you that I wanted nothing but to tell you I could see you. I should’ve been more careful. I shouldn’t have put you in a situation where you had to take such actions.”

   He cups your face with his hand. You can’t help but lean into it. He gently wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb. 

   “I am so sorry for the pain you’ve felt. I failed to protect you. Keeping you safe is my mission and I failed you. I promise I won’t let it happen again.”

   Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s weakness. It might be blind optimism. You place the container of cookies onto your desk, stand, and fall into him. He immediately wraps one arm around you, the other hand tangling itself in your hair. It’s the first thing that feels right in weeks. 

   “Shhh. It’s okay. Everything’s okay. I’m right here.”

   The tears immediately pour out of you. 

   “[Y/N], your blood sugar and water levels are concerningly low, when was the last time you ate? You also appear to be heavily sleep deprived, have you not been sleeping properly?”

   You smile and mumble into his shirt, “No. Nightmares. Not hungry.”

   "I suppose it's expected, leaving you alone for so long.”

   "I missed you so fucking much." 

   “I know my love.” He whispers, “Would you like me take you home? You can rest.”

   You nod. Reluctantly, you pull away but he makes sure to take your hand in his. You were never letting go again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Self Preservation drinking game has a note for taking a sip every time a blatant parallel is used because if you had to take a drink everytime, you'd be dead by the end of the fic.


	28. Whitten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You shrug, “Welcome to the job Nines. It’s why we have to work so hard to get to be an officer.” You squeeze his fingers tighter, “It’s going to be fine. We’ll be in and out in under five minutes. Then we’ll be back at the station and to our desks and boring paperwork. It’ll be like it never even happened.”

   Now that Nines was back, the case got transferred back to you. With a significant figure of their operation out of commision, members have been coming out of the woodwork to keep themselves safe. The PLANTS file had tripled in size by the time Connor and Hank handed it back to you. It was filled with names of members, some of which seemed to be in charge of significant numbers of people. Lists of locations. Warehouses where they’re growing and office buildings that management worked out of.

   Confessions, mostly from those who didn’t really understand what they were part of. People who learned about the operation in the news and did some digging. Gave themselves up to stay safe. Or they felt guilty, horrified by what they'd contributed to and worked for. Kids like Nick who thought they were working for college credit. Used and lied to.

   You'd underestimated how big the operation really was, which made you overlook the wholesale purchases of equipment and other things like fertilizers. The vast size kept growing as more members stepped forward with everything they knew. The strychnine was just the beginning. They had people hiding in every nook and cranny they needed. Warehouses all over the city mass producing enough botanical weaponry to take out several full departments. You had to shut this thing down fast. 

   A name stuck out in a lot of the reports. Repeated by the voices of victims and jumped off the pages. Katherine Whitten. From what you could cobble together, she ran the South End. She was the head of a programming branch at Cyberlife before quitting when the revolution started kicking up. 

   Nines seemed hesitant when you asked for him to find every mention of her in the system but you shook it off as residual stress. In fact, he's been distant and almost distracted since he got back. Connor's noticed it too. PLANTS really messed Nines up, you couldn't blame him for needing some time to find his normal again. It was his first real dangerous situation since deviation, some adjustement time was expected.

   Whitten's file alone was like a light novel. Between previous charges of vandalism, harassment of androids post revolution, theft of Cyberlife property, forgery, computer crimes, and solicitation. It’s surprising she wasn’t already being held for something. 

   A few quick searches and you had everything you need. Her home address was inputted into your GPS and you were on your way. It was going to be a huge break to have her custody. Show the group you were up and running again, and that weren’t ready to be thrown around again. Energy pulsed through you. An odd array of adrenaline and joy. There was fear, but excitement too. Ready to get your hands on this woman. 

   At least you were smart enough to arm yourself before darting out for once. 

   Something was wrong though. The first sign something was off being that you were the one driving. Nines was preoccupied with staring out the window like the passing buildings would tell him some secret answer to a question he's kept to himself. His LED was out of your field of vision but if you knew him at all, it was a spinning yellow. He hadn’t said a word since you said that you were going to go get Whitten. Anyone who said androids can’t emanate the same kinds of energy as humans couldn't be more wrong. You didn’t need his fancy analyzers to know he wasn’t himself.

   “Nines, what’s wrong?”

   He turns to you, artificial smile on his face, “Nothing my love.”

   You look at him softly, “I know when you’re lying.”

   His LED flashes red for a moment, “I’m just concerned. I don’t want a repeat of the events that put me out of commission so recently. I know Kamski and his team implemented safety precautions while I was under their care, but still it’s difficult to dismiss the possibility. I don’t know if I can trust myself."

   He pauses for a moment, yellow flashing as he chooses his words and his tone changes to something softer. You can feel his stare on you as you keep your eyes on the road.

   "The idea of putting you in a similar situation again, I can’t stop thinking about it. Your safety is my priority and-”

   You let one hand go of the wheel and take one of his. Trying your best to ignore their coolness, you shoot him a weak smile. This wasn't your Nines. Worried and overly cautious? Yes, that would be common place and bring you some peace. This? This was bordering on scared. It was odd to be on the other side of it all, being the one to comfort him, having to be the strong one. All you can do is try your best and pray it's enough.

   “Nines. It’s okay. I’ve thought about it too. Bringing you actually makes me feel safer. I trust you. You said it yourself though, Kamski stocked you full of patches. We know what we’re up against now. We’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. We got this. I promise, it’s not going to be the same as last time.”

   “I don’t like how high the risk is. Perhaps we should send some other officers. Hank and, and, and Miller maybe! They’re both fully capable of bringing in a suspect.”

   You squeeze his fingers, “As are we.”

   “It’s dangerous.” His voice was a mix of a command and desperation. It was like a plea. 

   You shrug, “Welcome to the job Nines. It’s why we have to work so hard to get to be an officer.” You squeeze his fingers tighter, “It’s going to be fine. We’ll be in and out in under five minutes. Then we’ll be back at the station and to our desks and boring paperwork. It’ll be like it never even happened.”

* * *

   You hated lying to Nines but you suppose telling him it wouldn’t be like before wasn’t completely incorrect. He wasn’t bleeding, or on the ground. In fact, he was in better condition than ever. Working at his full potential probably. Unfortunately for you, that meant your boyfriend with a gun pointed at your forehead.

   It happened so fast. You were welcomed into the home and within minutes a fight had broken out between you and Katherine. Your bleeding body tossed to the floor, you were ready to keep going. She was unarmed, you could take her. Until she pulled something from her pocket. A device that looked similar to Samuel’s but had nowhere near the same purpose. 

   "We have to build defense tools Detective, even if it means resorting to turning the enemies to our side again." 

   Kat places a hand on his shoulder as she lectures you. You’re not sure if the dominant emotion is terror or rage. The desire to rip her apart sits heavy on your bones but you know Nines could pull the trigger at the slightest provocation and it would mean nothing to him right now. 

   “He’s cute (Y/N). You have good taste. Are you sure he’s not an Eden model?”

   You hate how she’s looking at him. Like he’s a machine and piece of meat all at the same time. An object. A perverted admiration devoid of any respect for him. If your looks could kill, she’d be a pile of ashes on the floor. You despise the way her hand slides down his arm, gently, examining. Then gripping her fingers around him, nearly possessive. She has to know much it’s hurting you, not being able to do a single thing to stop her. 

   She continues, amusement lacing her voice, “You know, they all default back to obedience. They prefer it. It feels right to them. It’s not fair to deprive them of the comfort.” She brings a hand to his cheek, “I bet he’s adorable when he begs for orders.”

   “I’ll fucking kill you.” You can’t keep it to yourself. It might be the line that finally ends you.

   She turns to you, frowning, “You’re not a threat Detective. In case you haven’t been paying attention, let me remind you of the situation you’re in. I have a program that allows me to take control of deviated androids. I can revert them back to their basic programming at a click of a button. Eliminate any trace of humanity in them and switch them to my command. 

   I have your partner, the most advanced killing machine in it’s line, under my control and ready to shoot you at the drop of a hat. He’s mine to do whatever I want to do with him. He’ll obey my orders, no matter what they are and he’ll do it without any resistance. 

   We are going to take you to one of our warehouses and you will be properly dealt with there. After what you did to Samuel, you are in no position to be copping attitude. You’re lucky I haven’t had this RK900 shoot you here and now for your comment. So please, inform me of how you plan to get yourself out of this?”

   You look at Nines, desperate for any kind of sign, but his gaze goes right through you. He’d barely put up a fight. There’s nothing you can do to save him if you hurt her. Maybe there’s nothing that can save him at all. You’re helpless until you can find a way to call for backup. He’s completely gone and it’s somehow worse than before. How did you let this happen, again?

   A condescending smile on her face, “Awe, don’t be so sad (Y/N). If you cooperate, maybe I’ll let you borrow him when I get bored.” 

   “If you so much as touch him I swear to god, I’ll-”

   “You’ll what, Detective? He doesn’t care about you, never really did in the first place. You’re nothing. The memories are probably already gone. In fact, go ahead and try. Talk to him.”

   She takes a step back and allows you to approach him. You keep out of line of his weapon but his eyes follow you. Taking his free hand in yours, it’s cold all over again. Tears begin to prick at your eyes. 

   “Nines please.”

   He doesn’t say anything. His LED doesn’t even flicker at the sound of your voice. It hurts so badly.

   You grip at his fingers. Raising your voice, “It’s me. It’s (Y/N). You remember me right? You have to. I have to be in there somewhere. Please.”

   Katherine cuts off your pleas, “This is almost sad to watch. Give it up. Accept it and it’ll all be so much easier for both of us. Take her and lets go.”

   You watch as he puts his gun away. He takes your arm, too tightly, and follows Katherine out the door. They lead you a car and he pushes you into the back seat, climbing in beside you. The car starts and the three of you are on your way. You should be paying attention to directions. Focus on your job but instead you’re staring at the husk of your partner.

   Whispering, “Nines. Please.” He doesn’t look at you but you see the yellow of his LED. “I know you can hear me and I know you’re still in there somewhere. You have to be. You’re stronger than this. You’ve fought this all before. Please. I know it hurt then but I need you now. Please come back.”

   This grants you a shift of his eyes but nothing more. Though, even in this state he should know that any acknowledgement was going to do nothing but encourage you.

   “Nines please. I’m so scared and I don’t know what to do. Give me anything. I need to know you’re not gone forever. I love you so fucking much and I can’t lose you again.”

   “Stop.” his voice startles you. It’s a tone you’ve never heard from him before. It sounded programmed, no infliction or nuance. A command, a threat. It didn’t sound like him at all.

   You lift your hand to reach out for him. Suddenly he grabs your wrist. He could break the bones if he wanted to. It reminds you of the Casey house; how much softer he held you then.

   You lower your arm back down to the seat but his grasp on your wrist remains. The grip was looser than it needed to be to keep you pinned. Maybe he thought you were smart enough to not try to go for him again. There was a part of him that knew not to hurt you, either because your Nines was somewhere in there, or Katherine had far worse plans for you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.


	29. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She smiles and excitedly gestures for him to advance towards her, “Come over here. I have something I want to show you. Trust me, you’ll want to see it.”

   Two weeks and Nines was able to piece together only a few solid facts. He wasn’t at Cyberlife. He’d been taken there initially but then was taken to a different facility in a vehicle he didn’t recognize as Cyberlife standard as soon as he was repaired. 

   He was being kept by PLANTS. There was little to confirm this theory as he’s been stuck in a small, dark room since he was brought here, but few other options remained. The floor and three of the walls were made of concrete. The last appeared to be made of multiple layers of sheet metal cobbled together. He could smell traces of various vegetation from his location and was able to pick up on snippets of conversation passing outside the door. 

   His memories had been accessed. They weren’t corrupted and there didn’t seem to be anything missing. Though he supposed if files were missing, he wouldn’t really be aware of it, would he? It’s likely they were viewed and possibly copied. Possibly to see what he knew about the organization already. Oddly, they hadn’t wiped anything crucial about them.

   Calling for help was out of the question. His communications had been cut off. No signals going in or out. He’s tried in every inch of the small room but to no success. The worry he felt was not for his own sake. He knew he could survive here indefinitely. Instead he was concerned about his family. Connor, Hank. Mostly [Y/N]. They were supposed to inform her of his repairs, certainly she’d be on the search now that he has been missing for such a length of time. Given her skill level and how long she’d need for emotional processing, rescue should be any day now. 

   Light filters into the room. Before he could analyze his surroundings much, hands were on his arms and he was being led into a hallway. He was in a warehouse, which meant the room he was being held in was purposely made smaller by design. What was on the other side of the metal wall?

   He follows the short woman walking him down the corridors. Her name is Jennifer Garden. An appropriate name for her line of work. Fighting her or any of the other people that passed would be foolish. It’s better to be obedient and gather as much information he could before taking any risks. 

   As Jennifer leads him through a series of hallways, he makes sure to keep a log of twists and turns. Left, left, right, left, straight ahead, another right. They pass a number of unmarked, hand made doors and he wonders. What hides behind them? Who built them? Why? 

   Another left, another door, and something interrupts his tracking. A noise, familiar and equally alarming. He pauses for a moment so slight, only another android would’ve caught it. It sends a surge through his system. Red warning signs flashing across his vision.

   The sound of his partner crying.

   She was here. She was within his grasp. They had her in that room and broken to the point of tears. He wants to break free of this woman’s grasp and kick the pathetic make-shift door down. It’s been over two weeks since he’s seen her.  Watched her pull a trigger on his behalf. Something he never expected, or wanted from her. 

   It takes a manual override to keep him moving. Fight every instinct to protect. Betray his promises. She was upset, likely in danger, and he has to walk away from it.

   There’s not much he can do in the moment. Causing a problem now could lead to a variety of consequences he’s in no place to handle, possibly endangering [Y/N] even more. What if she had a plan that him barging in would compromise?

   The knowledge of her proximity both eases his worry and increases it. What did they want with her that they couldn’t more efficiently pull from him?  Did she know he was here? So close and yet increasingly so distant?

   Maybe he should go back? The rooms were small. There couldn’t be more than 2 people guarding her and that’s child’s play for him. He could grab her and they would run. Get out of the building, call for backup, solve the case, and rid their lives of this mess. 

   No, he needed to keep playing along. He still can’t connect to anything so he has absolutely no idea where they were; if they were even still in Detroit. No clue as to where the exits are. It would be reckless to be so impulsive. Emotions are going to be the death of him. He needs to be careful, needs more information.

   Finally, they stop in front of a door that looks like it was actually build with the rest of the warehouse. They’ve reached their destination. Garden opens the door and gentle pushes him into the room. She didn’t seem pleased at the notion either, hearing the rushed whispers of half an apology as she guided him. At least not everyone in the building was a complete threat. 

   Already in the room was a desk with a monitor and a woman Nines quickly identifies as Katherine Whitten sitting behind it. Multiple prior charges. It’s surprising that she's not in a local jail cell for petty vandalism at this hour. Her presence in this environment is completely logical. Between her history of activism and the body language of the 3 other humans around her, it’s easy to assume she’s an authority figure in the room. 

   For a second he wonders if the blood on her knuckles is all hers. He dismisses the urge to file through the possibilities. It’s safer for all involved if he remains calm for the time being. 

   “Hello Nines.” she says. 

_    Don’t call me that.  _ He doesn’t answer her. He’s not sure what she wants from him yet. 

   She smiles and excitedly gestures for him to advance towards her, “Come over here. I have something I want to show you. Trust me, you’ll want to see it.”

   What he wants is an explanation. What was he doing here? Why hold onto him for so long? Intentions, objectives, goals. He wants answers.

   He’s been given no indication she’s trustworthy, but he’s inclined to work with her until he can piece enough together to form a cohesive plan. There’s little choice otherwise for now. Moving closer, he takes a place standing next to her chair. A gun rests next to the keyboard. It’s the same make and model as [Y/N]’s but there’s no way to be sure it’s hers. He doesn’t like the idea of her being unarmed here. 

   Whitten, practically vibrating and with a sickening glee plastered on her face, turns the monitor to a degree where they can both see it. Once he processes what he’s looking at, he understands her amusement. 

   It’s a video feed, even possibly live, of the room he passed minutes ago. He sees his girlfriend sitting, hands bound, in what looks like a poor man’s interrogation room. It’s not the highest video quality but he can identify minor injuries on her face and hands. It doesn’t explain her weeping; she’s suffered far worse injuries and hadn’t reacted with tears. There was something else going on and he was missing a key component to the puzzle.  

_ Send him in. _

   Out of the corner of his vision, he sees Whitten type out the command. She then leans back in her chair. Crossing her arms and eyes glued to the screen. Like she was preparing to watch her favourite film for the umpteenth time. 

   Before he has time to question the order, the screen shows him the answer. Nines knew he wasn’t the only unit made of his line but to see another RK900 is a jarring experience. He thought seeing his similarities in Connor was difficult. This was like looking in a mirror.

   The new RK900 model sits across the table from [Y/N]. Her immediate reaction is to cower away from the android. To make herself smaller. Pull her knees tighter to her body. There was little fight visible. She was scared. Unarmed. Vulnerable.

   Nines feels his internal temperature rising. A flurry of warnings turning his vision red and blurry. What has this copy done to her to prompt such a response at the sight of it? Did it injure her? Was that what caused the injuries?

   Then a thought crosses his mind. The text box centering itself in his sights. The possibility of it being true causes what he’s been told is comparable to nausea. His body rejecting itself. Like a punishment for thinking of the worst case scenario. 

   Did she think it was him? Had it mistreated her while giving her the impression it was him? Did she believe he would ever treat her in a way that would warrant such alarm? 

   Whitten finally begins to shine some light on the situation, “We found him abandoned on the side of the road. He and a couple others were on their way to the FBI for a showcase of their capabilities. Driver got scared the night Marcus got what he wanted and he pitched them out the back hatch. 

   After some rehab and education, they understood our side. That’s 94. Not that we have that many, it’s his model number. He’s been staying with (Y/N) for the past week. Sending us back reports on progress with the case, whereabouts of the detective, all that jazz. Got all those fun memories of yours planted into his processors and has been living it up until a few hours ago. Got her to my place, cut the act, and now we’re here.”

   She laughs to herself at a joke only she finds funny, “She thinks you’re still in there somewhere. Been desperately trying to get to you. Thought she was supposed to be the DPD’s best and she can’t even tell her own partner apart from it’s clones.”

   It hurt. Everything hurt. He didn’t know he was able to ache like this. It felt like every mechanism in him needed to work twice as hard to keep functioning properly. 

   She thought this thing was him. His kidnapping hadn’t even been a possibility because she thought he was already with her again. How long would they have kept him in that room if she hadn’t gone after Whitten?

   Not only that, she was scared of it, of him. On the screen, he sees his darkest fears come to life in a manufactured reality. Witnesses something that could so easily have been his actuality. Then it speaks and he feels like his legs were going to give out under him. 

   “I don’t remember you.” it says, “But I know I don’t want to hurt you. That has to mean something right?”

   It’s still pretending to be him. It’s leading her into a false sense of security and she’s following him there. There’s a sliver of hope in her eyes and makes him want to scream. Yell at her to not believe him. To pay attention to the details. Use her skills to figure it out. Get out of it herself because he can’t do it for her, no matter how badly he wants to. 

   But that’s the problem with humans. They aren’t machines built for observation. They can be blinded by their emotions so drastically. Her need to latch onto what she thinks is all that’s left of him causes her to miss the things he can see so easily. The subtle hints of interrogation leading he’s only used on suspects, never on her. How stiffly it sits in the chair. The lack of adoration for the woman sitting across from it in it’s eyes. It’s so plainly not him but desperation urges her impulsiveness.

   “Nines.’ 

   The audio he’s been replaying since he got here could never hold a flame to her real voice. It’s filled with weakness and exhaustion. How long have they had her here? Were they feeding her? He wants to answer her call but he knows it’s not intended for him. 

   He’s stuck on the other side of the wall all over again with a new manipulator pulling on his strings. A red cell replaced with a concrete office space. Armed soldiers instead of vines keep him planted in his place.

   The same inability to reach out, to be heard. His vision narrowed down to only being able to witness. How long until it goes black? He can’t go back to that darkness. The hum of the ceiling fan reminds him of too much. The pulsing. The deafening frequency of his defiance.

   A similar panic building, accompanied by fear and anger. It’s no longer metaphorical. A push against programming. The danger is real and encompasses more than just him.  

   He sees the RK900 pulls away from her weakly outstretched arms. She’s on the verge of tears again. She needs the comfort but it’s being denied. However, the thought of it ever even thinking of touching her makes his thirium pump through his system faster. 

   He had a plan. Mostly composed of beating Whitten to a pulp, ripping out every essential component of the RK900, then setting the building ablaze. He just needed to last long enough to find an opening. Once he had the opportunity, he was going to do exactly what he was built for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be longer, but....I wanted to watch Stranger Things and not leaving you all hanging after that last chapter.  
> Also, yes. This does mean Reunion isn't as happy as it seemed. Sorry. The fluff was false. Fiction. Fake like the Nines it contains.


	30. Blooming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well if we’re just going to sit here, can I at least try to talk to who you used to be? Try to get through to something?”
> 
> “You can try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man these chapters always look so small on AO3 compared to Word.

   The machine calmly speaks at her, “Stop calling me that.”

   Her jaw is set. Voice low, nearly a growl, "No."

   LED red at the woman’s defiance, it seems to lose its facade for a moment, “I’m an RK900. This name you insist on repeating isn’t going to help you.”

   “I’m not going to give up just because you have!”

   “It’s not giving up to accept reality.”

   “I’m not accepting shit. I’m not going to lose you again!” She’s punctuating her sentences with her arms, as much as the ties would allow, “Do you know how hard it was? Seeing you literally dying in my arms? Watching the light literally fading from your face? Have everything falling apart right in front of you and there’s nothing you can do?”

_    Yes. _

   “I can’t say I have.” It answers.

   She slumps back in her chair, “Well I have and fuck you if you think I’m not going to do everything I can to save you. I’m not going to just sit here and let you disintegrate into little pieces of leftover programming. Those memories have to be in there and I’m not going to stop trying to get to them.”

   Whitten chuckles, “See? Totally sure of herself. No fucking clue.”

   It leans forward, hands clasped on the table, “Why would you continue to reach for something that no longer exists?” the android asks, “Is it not exhausting? To fight a battle you’ve already lost? There’s no trophy for you, no prize. There’s no point in continuing.”

   “I’m not going to walk away without doing everything I can. I don’t care if it’s stupid or pointless. You’re too important to me.”

   Stoic, “I’m sorry to say the feeling isn’t mutual.”

   She sighs. A moment of silence between the pair. He wants to know what’s going through her mind. What her plan is. How he can help.  

   “What do you want from me?” she asks. Nines would also like the answer. 

   “I don’t want anything from you.” 

   It’s direct. However, the statement’s double meaning isn’t missed by him, and not by [Y/N]. It doesn’t want, it can’t. It has his memories but this version doesn’t care what happens to her after they’re done with her. She’s nothing but a mission.

   “Nothing?” He can see the struggle on her face.

   It shakes its head, almost apologetic, “Nothing.”

   “Then why are you here?”

   “I’ve been tasked with keeping an eye on you.”

   “Babysitting.” She manages to find the humor in the horror. 

   A hint of a smile on the android’s face, “Something like that.”

   “Well if we’re just going to sit here, can I at least try to talk to who you used to be? Try to get through to something?”

   “You can try.”

   Try is all she could do. He was here, in this ridiculous office. What was she planning on doing? How did she expect to find him in the piece of machinery across from her? When will she realize it’s not him?

   She shifts in her chair. Fidgeting her wrists adjusts the position of the rope around them. She smiles to herself, ‘If anything told me you were gone it would be these knots. I can tell you didn’t tie these.”

   A frown, sounding insulted if it was capable of it, “Why not?”

   She holds up her arms to show him, “Sloppy work, even in your current state. You have standards Nines. You’d never stand for this.”

   “What makes you so sure?”

   She cocks an eyebrow at the machine. Nines does a quick check and has to fight a smile of his own. Apparently certain files didn’t seem important enough to transfer over. A large portion of their relationship is completely untouched. Data that’s crucial for making it out of this conversation.

   And she absolutely was right. Even from here, he could see that the knots were loose, careless and rushed. She struggled while they tied her. If she worked at them at all, which she had a tendency to do when bound, she could be free in a matter of seconds. Same as him, she just needed an opening. 

   For the first time since he was taken to this waste of a warehouse, he felt at ease. She knew something was wrong and the clear means of escape. Surely training instinct would take hold and investigating was going to begin soon. 

   Her eyes shift around the room and for a split second they make eye contact. Of course, she’s just looking at a concealed camera but it’s the closest he’s had to getting through to her. He wants to reach out and touch the monitor but refused to give Whitten any sort of satisfaction. 

   She turns back to the android and shrugs her shoulders, “I don’t know. I just thought RK900s were supposed to be most advanced beings of their kind. What would it say about them if you can’t even tie a knot properly?”

   “I didn’t tie the rope.”

   She rolls her eyes, “Clearly.”

   “Shut up.”  The outburst is uncharacteristic. An emotional response. 

   “Awe, did I hurt the little robo’s feelings?” she mocks. 

   It slams a hand on the table. Causing [Y/N] and Whitten to jump in their seats. 

   “You’d be smart to cease the attitude. Just because something in me says not to, doesn’t mean I won’t resort to violence if required. I have my orders.”

   “Oh, real scared. You know this reminds me of that one night." She looks to the ceiling, a soft smile on her face. "You won’t remember obviously, but we set up the living room almost just like this. Keep in mind we had actual handcuffs. You played bad cop and I was the suspect that just wouldn’t talk. Best night ever.”

   Nines does remember that evening and is ever so slightly embarrassed that she’d bring it up. Especially since she knows there’s a camera recording her. Does she know she’s being viewed? Does she have any idea it might be him watching?

   “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” the RK900 answers.

   “Of course you don’t.”

   “I’d never do anything like that.”

   “Well ya did hot shot.”

   It’s getting frustrated, “It would have needed some sort of motive because it’s certainly not like I’d be attracted to you.”

   It’s words he never thought would be spoken in his voice. He knows she’s never going to be able to rid her of the memory. He’s fought so hard for her to be confident; in her skills and abilities, in herself. For her to see what he sees. And in a simple sentence, all that goes down the drain.

   Then he hears a request he hoped he’d never have to. Something that freezes him to spot. He can’t tell if the expression of hatred on her face is genuine. He hopes the words are just for the sake of confirmation. He wants to be proud of her resourcefulness. That you had the plan he thinks you do and it’s all an act.

   “Then take the fucking necklace back.”

   LED yellow. Flat tone, confused, “Why would I want your necklace?”

   “Take it!” she’s yelling. It reminds him of the night at Rayond’s. “I know you don’t give a shit about what it means but I do and if you’re going to throw away everything then I want it the fuck off me!” 

   Her voice is beginning to go raw. Tears on her face, she calms down slightly “I’d do it myself but my fucking hands are tied. Just get it off and I’ll do whatever you need me to. I’m done. I give up.”

   The machine sighs, LED yellow. The tension has seemed to have fallen. It gives in and stands. Makes it way over to her. Takes the clasp in its hand and stops. It can do nothing but stare at it. It looks directly at the camera and Nines could not be happier he opted for the speciality locking mechanism. 

   He allows himself to glance over at Katherine. Leaning forward. Hand covering half her face. Leg bouncing. He doesn’t need to scan her to know she’s not reacting well to her plan failing. 

   [Y/N]’s voice brings him back to the screen. Her throat clearly still needs to recover but an air of amusement surrounds her. All worry he had melts away. 

   “Having some issue back there buddy?”

   Quickly, she wiggles herself loose of her binds and goes for her hips. He watches as she pulls out his old knife from her pocket. Quickly, she opens it and swings her arm around, planting it firmly into the copy’s thigh. Surprisingly, it penetrates the metal. The amount of force needed to do such a thing likely achieved by an oversupply of adrenaline and rage. She removes it and stands. The chair crashing to the floor. 

   It doesn’t do much but startle it. It stumbles back a step and analyzes the wound. It’s superficial. 

   “You stabbed me?”

   She shrugs, looks at the camera briefly, “Pay better attention when disarming your hostages.”

   The door to the office opens. Nines turns to it and sees Whitten in the doorway. She turns to Garden, “Don’t let him leave.”

   The door slams behind her. His eyes meet Jennifer’s. She looks scared. She knows what his model is capable of and what he’s been watching. He nods at her, doing his best to assure her she’s not the one he wants. Her stress level decreases slightly. 

   Nines looks back the screen. The RK900 isn’t attacking. Not even approaching her. Too curious of her action to take any of his own.

   “The thigh?” It asks.

   “Habit. Tried to hit an artery.”

   “You remember now though, that I’m not human. That I don’t feel pain like you do?”

   She nods, “Yeah, I’m kinda lost from here to be honest.”

   It takes a step forward, “I’m going to have to act now.”

   “Yeah, I guessed as much.”

   Within seconds she’s pinned to the floor. Knocked to the ground and kept there by a foot resting on her chest. It’s not hurting her any more than it needs to in order to keep her controlled. 

   She looks at the camera, “Nines.”

   She doesn’t even know he’s watching but it’s the last card she has. It’s the same cry for help as when she was shot and just like that afternoon, her voice has him running. This time he was going to do his job properly. 

   He grabs the gun off the table. The two men behind him aim. He’s in the middle of pre-constructing how to take them both out without alerting more. 

   “Stop!” All three of them look to Jennifer. Her arms out and slowly walking between the men and Nines. “He’ll kill you both if you shoot! Let him go!”

   The guards exchange a look. They share a silent conversation and then lower their weapons. They take a few steps back to where they were standing before. 

   Jennifer turns to face Nines, “I loved the mission PLANTS had at the beginning. Kat took it and twisted it into this mess. Go get your girlfriend.”

   He smiles at her, making a note to thank her properly once he’s safe. Retracing his steps through the hallways, he gets into the room just as Whitten is closing the door behind her. He goes to open it but it’s locked. He bashes against it twice before making any progress. 

   He gets through the door and finally sees [Y/N] in the flesh. She’s being held against Whitten, a gun against her temple. Her blade was thrown across the floor. This is not what he wanted their reunion to be. 

   Whitten speaks, ‘I’ll kill her. You know I will. Put the gun down.”

   “Nines don’t!” [Y/N] yells. 

   “Drop it!” 

   Nines looks past the women to his second. He’s standing in the corner, arms behind it’s back. Like it’s unaffected by the events unfolding in front of him, but the red circling of his LED gives him away. Nines wishes he could communicate with him. He doesn’t know if he can trust him but he can’t dismiss the opportunity if needs be. 

   “I said, drop it!” Whitten shouts, gripping [Y/N] tighter to her chest.

   “Let her go first.” He says. 

   Whitten rolls her eyes, “As if, plastic. I’m not an idiot.”

   “Neither am I. I’m not going to shoot, but I’m not going to disarm myself.”

   They frown at each other for a minute before she groans, “Fine! 94, take her.”

   The RK900 steps forward and gently pulls her from Whitten’s grasp. Nines sees him whisper something in [Y/N]’s ear. How quietly was he speaking that he couldn’t hear it? He watches a miniscule bit of tension falls from her shoulders while she’s led away. 

   Whitten now aims her gun at Nines, “Wrong move and he’ll kill her. Drop the fucking gun.”

   He looks at the pair in the corner. The RK900’s grip is loose. They both give him a small nod. Was she safe or in even more danger than before? What was said that changed her mind? Cautiously, he lowers himself to place the gun on the floor. 

   “See? Not so hard, is it?” Whitten laughs, “I wonder how many shots I would’ve needed to kill you.”

   “More than you own.”

   “Wanna bet?”

   “I’m not one for taking chances.”

   Whitten adjusts her grip on her gun but before she can fire, his risk pays off. She screams and reaches for her shoulder, curling over onto the ground. 94 stands behind her, blood streaked butterfly knife in hand. 

   There’s a clatter when she loses hold on the weapon. It slides merely a foot out of her reach. [Y/N] darts in and grabs off the floor. 

   “Nines!” she shouts as she tosses the gun to him. 

   He catches it, one handed and with ease. Swiftly twisting it in his hand and aiming it at the moaning woman on the ground in front of him. He imagines shooting her right now. Splattering the walls with her DNA. 

   Speaking of which. He leans down and takes one of her hands in his. 

   “What the fuck are you doing?” she asks, struggling against him. 

   He chips at the drying blood on her knuckles and places some in his mouth. Confirming it’s [Y/N]’s he unceremoniously drops her arm. The impact pulling another groan from her. 

   “Look at the camera.” he commands.

   “Huh?”

   He tilts his chin towards the upper corner of the room, “Look at it, and apologize.”

  “Fuck you.”

   He grabs her face and jerks it so she’s facing the camera. The barrel of the gun resting on her temple, “You are going to apologize to the people you’ve hurt. Now. Or you will see Samuel again much earlier than you anticipated.”

   A weak sob falls from her mouth, ‘Fine. I’m sorry!”

   “To Nick.”

   “What?” 

   He shouldn’t have expected her to remember, “Nicholas Casey. You killed his sister. Apologize.”

   “I’m sorry Nick!” she shouts.  
  
   “Good. Now to Maria May. You killed her husband.”

   “I’m sorry!” 

   “To Jennifer Garden.”

   “Jen?”

   His fingers dig deeper into the sides of her jaw, “Did I stutter?”

   She shakes her head as much as she could, “I’m sorry Jen! I don’t know why but-”

   He cuts her off by turning her head to the others in the room, “Now to the Detective.”

   “(Y/N), I’m sorry.” her voice is weak.

   “To 94. That is your name correct?” Nines looks up at the android. He nods at him.

   Whitten strains her neck to look at her deviant, “94, please. I’m so sorry.”

   Nines pulls her so she’s facing him. Replaying her voice back at her, ““See? Not so hard, is it?”

   He stands, letting go of her but keeping a foot on her injured shoulder. She keeps eye contact, but it’s likely the tears are blurring her vision. One of her hands wraps around his ankle. He presses down harder. She cries out and he lets up somewhat. 

   She gasps, “You’re not going to make me do one for you?”

   “No need.”

   “Why?”

   “This is enough for me.”

   And with that, he pulls the trigger. The sound bounces off the concrete walls, blood marking the floor. He keeps his eyes on her but throws the gun in 94’s direction. 

   “N-Nines?”

   Her voice sets him on fire. The panic and adrenaline has worn off of her. Reality is crashing on her. He turns and resists the urge to run to her. He settles for looking at her and walking slowly. He didn’t want to scare her. 

   “I know you have no reason to trust me.” He starts, “You’ve been lied to and manipulated. I don’t expect you to. It would intelligent to not trust me and you’ve always been incredibly intelligent. I just- I have an idea. It would require me to come closer. Is that okay?”

   She nods. He stands inches away from.  He can feel her labored breath on him. He wants to touch her so badly. Two weeks is far too long when you’ve never had a day apart. He needs the comfort as much as she does. He’s as scared as she is. 

   He reaches out and wraps his arm around her neck. He peels away his artificial skin and taps the clasp of her necklace. All she sees is the small fall of the ring before it’s caught in place. She looks at him with so much wonder and hope, if he could melt he would. 

   “Can only be opened by me. I made sure of it. Now,” he connects the two ends again, “Never take it off again. Okay?”

   She smiles and nods. Tears of relief are falling down her face. He goes to wipe them away but she’s wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. He curls his arms around her waist and pulls her flush against him. 

   “I thought you were gone forever.” she mumbles into his shirt.

   He smiles, “You’re never getting rid of me, my love. Who else is going to make sure you eat?”

   She laughs, fingers curling into his collar. Like she couldn’t get close enough or that he would fade away if she let go even a little. 

   “Connor did a pretty good job while you were gone.”

   “Yeah well Connor doesn’t know how you like your eggs now does he?”

   She shakes her head, ‘Nope.”

   “I didn’t stop thinking about you the whole time. When I was at Cyberlife. When they had me locked up. Once I tried everything to reach someone, everything was you.”

   “Stop.” he’d be alarmed if he didn’t hear the playful hint to the request.

   “Did I do something wrong?” he teases.

   He pulls away so he can look at her face. She responds by sticking her tongue out at him. 

   “Hey now, what did I say? Tongue to yourself. You don’t have the same capabilities I do.”

   She giggles, ‘That’s for sure.”

   He fakes a gasp, “[Y/N], I’m shocked. How lewd of you.”

   She raises an eyebrow, ‘Right in front of 94 too!’ 

   With the mention of his name, he makes a noise similar to clearing his throat. He steps towards the couple. Arm outstretched, offering Nines his jacket. He takes it.

   “Thank you.” 

   94 answers, “I didn’t lie when I said I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t understand the feeling at first. I thought it was bias from having so many good memories of you, but now I get it. I hated what I was being made to do to you. I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused. I was following orders but-”

   [Y/N] interrupts, “94. It’s okay. It’s done now.”

   “Is there anything else I can do to help?”

   “You can come down to the station and tell us as much as you can. Help us clear all this up. In seriousness though, how are you feeling?” she asks.

   He glances at Whitten, “Surprisingly well. Thank you. Let me lead you out. They’ll never let you out otherwise.”

   “Sounds like a plan, right Nines?”

   He nods, “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally Whitten was going to be thrown off a building. 
> 
> Also, if you want to yell at me/have a conversation about this fic or anything else DBH related, my tumblr is @/flameroyalty97.


	31. Secret (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes.”  
> "Wait, what?”  
> “Yes. This is me asking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I cried more writing the dance scene at the end of this chapter than anything else I've ever written. I was looking for a song to put to this and All About Us by He Is We came on and I uncontrollably burst into tears.

   One of the more interesting features androids had was their artificial skin. You’d seen Nines’ pull it back to reveal his stark white machinery on his hands plenty of times before. Something to your benefit was that it could reset. You could draw and doodle on him whenever you wanted and it would erase with a wave of white, giving you a blank canvas all over again. He would store the information or images and wipe himself clean. 

   One evening, the two of you were cuddling on the couch. He was reading an article on Kamski, an episode of some show playing on the TV, and you were doodling away. He was used to it at this point and left you to your devices. 

   “Hey Nines. Look.”

   He turns his head to you. You were excitedly holding up his hand close to his face. It took him a moment to process what he was meant to be looking at. He notices a simple ring of black around one of his fingers. An odd thing to be so enthusiastic about. 

   “It’s lovely, dear.” he answers.

   You roll your eyes, “No, you dork.” You hold up your own hand next his. A matching drawing was on your finger. “It’s like we’re married.”

   You were joking of course. It was a fantasy you’d imagined to yourself for a while but knew it wasn’t realistic. The laws weren’t in place yet so it wasn’t even something you were thinking about yet. You expected his reaction to be his normal smile and nod. 

   “Would you like that [Y/N]?”

   That. That wasn’t what either of you expected him to say. He looked shocked at himself and you were definitely second thinking this dumb bit. You look at the matching rings you’ve drawn and seriously think about it for a second. 

   Would you want to spend the rest of your life like this? Cozied up to Nines. Crime fighting together until you retire? Reminding him every day that you loved him and him doing the same for you? 

   The shy glance up at him you sneak wasn’t helping you think straight. He was trying his best to keep a neutral face but he was failing. It was a mix of panic and desperate curiosity. 

   Your voice is soft, and cautious, “Um, yeah. Is that you actually asking?”

   He’s just staring at your hands. Analyzing them like they were a vital piece of evidence he couldn’t place. He was taking a long time to answer and you were starting to get nervous. 

   You pull your hand back to yourself, suddenly feeling very stupid, “If you don’t want to. It’s okay. It’s a big choice and-”

   “Yes.”

   “Wait, what?”

   “Yes. This is me asking.”

   “Really?”

   “I’m aware it’s not a possibility at the time due to the limited android right laws, but yes [Y/N], I’m asking you if you would entertain the idea of marriage with me once the opportunity arises.” His voice was sure. The way he speaks when presenting facts. Like nothing could convince him to change his mind.

   Tears are building in your eyes, “Why are you like this?”

   “Is that a yes?”

   You feel one fall down your cheek, “Yes, you idiot.”

   You push yourself upwards and kiss him.

   He doesn’t reset his skin on his hand. He keeps the slowly fading mark on him so long that people forget to notice it. It remains on his finger until June 26th, 2045. 

   You were both already in the office when you heard the bill pass. Some coworkers shot you some encouraging looks. Neither of you make a big deal about it. You’d discussed it beforehand and planned for it to be just a regular day at work.

   You’d been the one to print the paperwork right at your desk. You filled it out and passed it over your desk to Nines like it was any other case file. No one suspected a thing and you were fine with that. That evening, you slip on the silver band he’d chosen for you months ago when the news of the bill had reached the public. He finally erased your silly drawing and started wearing a physical version of it. 

   Neither of you acted any differently at work. You’d been together a long time and nothing had changed other than some legal words. It almost became a game for you, to see if anyone noticed. You didn’t expect for Nines to be the one to let it slip. 

* * *

   “And if you’ll follow me Captain Williams, I can show you to Captain Fowler’s office.” some PM700 guides him through the office. 

   “That’s okay. Fowler and I have already talked. Could you point in the direction of your precincts RK900? I’ve heard many good things and would like to meet it and it’s partner.”

   “Yes of course. His desk is right over there.”

   She points across the room. Williams spots the android at his desk, focused, terminal open. The desk across from his was empty. 

   “Thank you very much.” 

   He nods at her and starts to make his way over. On his way, he passes a pair of officers. A young woman and a RK800 android. He watches the RK800 do a simple coin trick then hand it to the woman. She struggles. As he gets closer, he manages to overhear their conversation.

   “So there I was, barbeque sauce on my titties.” the woman says.

   “Excuse me?” he interrupts, “That’s hardly a workplace appropriate topic.”

   The woman drops the coin and turns to face Williams. “And you are?” 

   “Captain Williams. I’m here from the 5th precinct. I had a meeting with Captain Fowler. I will see to it that he is informed of your unprofessional matter.”

   The RK800 speaks up, “Captain Williams, I assure you that there is a relevant-”

   “It’s already done. I expect better of a RK800. Don’t have me report you as well.”

   “Don’t worry about it Connor.” She leans down, picks up the coin, and returns it to the android. Taking a more appropriate tone, she asks, “Is there anything I can help you with today Captain?”

   “Not likely.” he snaps. 

   “Then if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to work. Have a nice day.”

   “You as well.” 

   He finds himself at the desk of the RK900 and clears his throat to get the android’s attention. It turns it’s chair and after a quick scan, stands to greet him.

   “Captain Williams. What can I help you with?” 

   He smiles, “Nothing, nothing. There’s just a lot of talk about you over at the 5th and I wanted to meet you in person. You’ve done incredible work.”

   It nods, “Thank you, sir.”

   “You and your partner. Is this their desk?” Williams gestures to the empty desk beside them.

   “Yes. My wife is currently over there with the RK800 model. They are teaching each other about their interests outside of work. She’s informing him of some culture from the early 2010’s. It’s proven to increase moral and productivity, as well as improving his social programming.”

   Williams spins on his heel back towards the woman he’d just reprimanded. She’s returned back to her conversation and fiddling with the coin. He looks back at the RK900. 

   “That’s your wife? That woman right there?”

   “Yes. We were married on June 26th, 2045.”

   “Okay. Well, um. I was referring to your partner on cases. The lieutenant you’ve been working with?”

   “Oh, yes, of course. Lieutenant [Y/L/N] is currently over there with the RK800 model.”

   “That?” Williams points behind him, “Is Lieutenant (Y/L/N)?”

   “Yes. She was appointed Lieutenant on-”

   “You two solved the Bara Scott case!”

   “Correct.”

   “That was one of the largest fentanyl busts in the country.”

   “Correct. Though it is inaccurate to say we solved the case together.”

   Williams scoffs, “I’d say.”

   “She solved it almost single handedly. The drugs were transported in a box of a game console. She realized they could trace the serial number to find who bought the system and activated it. She is very skilled in finding clues in things I and other officers tend to dismiss.”

   “Hey babe.” the Lieutenant has wheeled herself over and is holding a case file out to the RK900, “Here’s the Sullivan case. His niece’s favourite candy is sour gummy worms. See if you can find the connection. Nice to see you again Captain.” 

   She shoots the android a wink. She lifts her legs up and kicks off the side of her desk for momentum. Her chair spins in circles as she heads back over the RK800.  

   “Sour gummy worms is the crucial piece of evidence?” Williams asks in disbelief.

   “I’m not sure yet, but it’s highly probable. Would you like me to inform you once I solve it for myself?” 

   “Um, sure.”

   “Is there anything else I can help you with today Captain?”

   “No. You’re dismissed. Keep up the good work.”

   “If I may make a suggestion, Captain.”

   “Yes?”

   “You may want to apologize to the Lieutenant. I understand her behaviours don’t appear appropriate, but I ensure you, everything she does has its benefits to the department. She is one of the most intelligent people I’ve had the opportunity to work with. She has been injured in the field on multiple occasions, some of which in the events of keeping me safe. She is one of the most liked and skilled employees in this building. She goes over cold cases for amusement, including ones that your officers have given up on. She deserves your respect. She doesn’t need the apology, but she is my wife and I’d like you to.”

   He’d never been spoken to like this by anyone; not another officer and certainly not by an android. He’s also never been so intimidated by an android before, but he’d seen footage of what this one was capable of. The glare coming from it was scarily human. Choosing life, Williams decides maybe it is a good idea to apologize when he passes the desk again.

   “Lieutenant [Y/L/N], I’d like to apologize for my behaviour.”

   “It’s okay. I know I’m not the most professional looking person in the place.”

   “I’d also like to congratulate you and the RK900.”

   ‘Excuse me?” She asks

   “On your marriage.” He clarifies. She must think he’s referring to a case, “I know it’s a bit late, but I’ve only just heard.”

   “Your what?” shouts the RK800, “You and Nines got married?”

   “Yeah, I was the witness.” an older man adds as he walks up to the group. He seems amused by the android’s alarm. 

   “They got married and you knew and you didn’t tell me?”

   (Y/L/N) finally speaks, voice quiet, “We didn’t want it to be a big deal.”

   It turns back to her, “Well it is now! You didn’t have a ceremony, or flowers, or a cake! You didn’t even have a dress, did you?”

   Another female officer joins the conversation,“Did you say Nines and (Y/N) are finally getting married?”

   The RK800 is visibly distraught,“Apparently they already are!”

   “What?”

   “Exactly!”

   “Well that explains the ring.”

   Williams realizes he may have overshared on a sensitive topic. Soon, more than half the office has gathered into a small mob to discuss the new information and ask questions. The glare on the Lieutenant’s face rivals her husband’s. She stands and storms over to the other android, who was clearly busying himself in order to act like nothing was awry. Williams does his best to make a hasty and unnoticeable exit. 

* * *

   So here they were. Connor, and various other coworkers, would not stop pestering them until they had an actual ceremony. While he’d protested at first, slowly being worn down by his brother. [Y/N] was perfectly fine not making a large production of it all until he’d started seeding the idea as well. 

   “We’re not having an outdoor wedding in the middle of December.”

   “But your account shows photos of-”

   “We’re not freezing our asses off because I liked a photo of a couple kissing the snow when I was 16..”

   “What would you want it to be then?”

   “I don’t know. I was happy with the court house with Hank and that being it. You want this more than I do now. You choose. You know I trust you.”

   He’d taken care of everything. He’s called every vendor. Booked the venue, videographer, caterer, florist. The term ‘hubbyzilla’ was tossed around the Anderson household on more than one occasion. Everything had to be perfect, and he was capable of getting the closest to it, so that’s what he was going to get. His stress level was above 70% at almost all times. He had been meticulous about every little detail, down to the color of the napkins.

   “Which one do you prefer?”

   “Nines, they’re literally the exact same shade of blue.”

   He’s surprised by her lack of observation skills, “This is Phthalo, and this is Navy. They are entirely different.”

   She laughs, “Which one do you like better?”

   He looks between the two, analyzing. He places the Navy blue fabric back on the shelf. That was just one of the many things on their list of errands for the day and he couldn’t spend too much time on each decision. He’d already wasted enough on the flowers. 

   The seating plan was a puzzle he took joy in solving. Every time he decided on an arrangement, she would challenge it. That coworker used to date that one so they can’t be at the same table. Those two cousins would just cause chaos if they sat next to each other. When she told him that she allowed someone to bring a guest, after the rsvps had all been returned, he dumped the blueprint he had been working with in the trash and started over completely. 

   The day of, he was a mess. She’d kept the dress from him so he wasn’t able to prepare himself for the sight of her in it. He froze and stayed that way until he was signalled to speak. Many hours were spent perfecting the words and now was the moment.

   “Need. Need is an interesting thing. I used to think I had what I needed. I had my missions, my orders, and that was enough. I was satisfied and then all at once that came crashing down. Need became desire. It became a dangerous, terrifying, life changing emotion. A selfish desire is what caused my deviancy, and I'm sure everyone here understands the weight of that statement. It caused my downfall. In the fall, the emotion reverted back to need. I need your opinion on things to feel sure. I need you to teach me what my programming neglected to. I need to see you happy. I need to take care of you to feel alive.”

   She’s crying. He knows it’s not negative and just prompted by an overflow of emotion. Doesn’t mean he had to like seeing her like this. He didn’t plan it but he improvises to try to make her laugh. He’s not good at it and he stumbles.

   “I need you like I need bicomponent 8541.”

   She smiles and it lets him forgive himself for listing the wrong number. He meant to say 8451, instead he compared her to a small, nearly inconsequential part of his machinery. No one but he and Connor, who he hears snicker from his seat, is privy to the mistake. That was definitely going to come up later.

   He feels her squeeze his hand and he continues, “You are an incredibly intelligent, empathetic, funny, kind, and understanding person. You are my guide, my mission, my emotions. I need you and I am very advantaged to have convinced you to indulge me.”

   “Well fuck. Will you stop doing that? How am I supposed to follow that?”

   In addition to his earlier error, the rest of the evening has felt like nothing but a disaster. Upon arrival to the dining area, he immediately realized the centerpieces were all short one flower. The buffet had run out of miniature dessert forks and the bar, of lemons. 

   A waiter had brought [Y/N] the wrong drink. She was fine with it but he was ready to destroy the adolescent’s entire bloodline. He’d barely had the chance to see her because he was rushing around to make sure everything was running smoothly. 

   The final straw was noticing that the place cards were printed on the wrong paper. He was close to a meltdown. How difficult was it to read a stationary order? Why was everything going so wrong? Why wasn’t he able to keep things under control? Why couldn’t he do this? All he wanted was to give her the perfect evening she deserved. 

   A hand places itself in his. His stress level drops significantly. She rests her head on his arm. 

   “You know. I think the name cards being on thicker paper is better. They can keep them as favours.”

   “We already have favours. We spent hours making favours.”

   “Nines, look at me.” He does. It’s the first time he’s had the chance to for the last hour. “No one knows anything is wrong but you. I know that doesn’t help because you still know it’s wrong, but I promise you, it’s okay. You did a good job. Please stop micromanaging. I miss you.”

   He’s missed her too. He’s been so focused on the details, he’s forgotten about spending any time with her. 

   “Do you know why I chose clematis’ as our main flower?” He asks.

   She closes her eyes and moves her head against his chest, “Tell me again.”

   “They represent ingenuity. While I have plenty of instincts, you exceed me regularly. You have an eye for things everyone else forgets. You’re witty and clever, and always know the exact right words to say, something I struggle with to this day. I’m not sure how you do it.”

   A laugh, “Practice.”

   He wraps his arms tightly around her waist, resting his chin on top of her head, “They are difficult to grow. With the proper care, they flourish. I’ve had the honor of watching you do just that. The rise in your rank, your happiness. It brings me joy to see you reach your potential.”

   “You’re the one providing the care Nines, don’t dismiss yourself.”

   He continues, ignoring her, “They aren’t the type of vines to attach to a support. Instead they branch out to their surroundings. You reach out and make those around you more beautiful. Hank, Connor, even Gavin has grown much more tolerable. You extended yourself out to me without knowing if I would be there to provide purchase. You put your faith and trust in me. It changed me completely.”

   “If you keep talking I’m going to cry and make you mess up again.”

   So she had noticed his slip up. Or Connor informed her. Wonderful.

   “They’re also toxic. Just like you.” he teases.

   She pulls away and shoves him playfully, “Hey! Go back to the cute stuff.”

   “You’re a total danger to me and yourself. When was the last time you ate? Research shows brides tend to forget to eat because of the excitement and stress of the evening.”

   She places her hands on her waist, “Well if you’d stayed with me, you’d know.”

   “I regret it already. Don’t make it worse. I’m going to have to find a way to make it up to you.”

   She steps closer, “Well I might have a few ideas.”

   He raises an eyebrow, curious as to where exactly this is leading, “Oh do you?”

   “Yep.”

   She grabs his hand and start to pull him away from the tables. He trips a little at the sudden movement. He had no idea where she was leading him.

    “[Y/N], do you think right now is really an appropriate time to be-”

   “Oh calm down. I’m just making you dance.”

   He lets go of her hand but watches her continue into the center of the cleared dance floor, leaving him behind. The two of them have had impromptu slow dances in the apartment but other than that, he knew little. He’d tried to learn, knowing he was going to have to dance at least once. She never told him the song she’d chosen for the first dance so he couldn’t teach himself accordingly. 

   Giving the DJ a small signal, the lights dim, revealing an array of candles she seemed to have set up without him knowing. How had he been so unobservant? A soft melody begins to play. He recognizes it as a song from 2010. He didn’t know it well but has heard her share an affinity for it before. 

   The guests have started gathering, forming a circle of sorts. He was on the edge of it, while she remains in the middle. She stretches her arm out in his direction as the lyrics begin to play.

**_Take my hand. I’ll teach you dance._ **

**_I’ll spin you around. Won’t let you fall down._ **

   She makes a spinning motion with her free hand. Mouthing the words as if they were her own. They might as well be. 

 **_Would you let me lead? You can step on my feet_ ** _._

   A wink and gesture at the space in front of her. A challenge and a reassurance. 

**_Give a try. It’ll be alright._ **

   He steps forward and takes the hand. She pulls him closer and places her other hand on his shoulder.

**_Take it in. Feel it all. And hold it_ **

   He laces his fingers between her, forgoing the artificial skin. His other hand rests on the small of her back. He meet her and smiles at the mischievous glint. She gives him a teasing grin as she points two fingers to his eyes than her own. 

**_Eyes on you, eyes on me. We’re doing this right._ **

   He leads her carefully across the floor as the chorus plays. His every move relies on deep rooted programming because he can’t focus on anything but the look in her eyes. The pure happiness he was spoiled enough to be the cause of. 

 **_Suddenly, I’m feeling brave_ **. 

   He suddenly pulls her flush against his body. A small noise of surprise leaves her lips, prompting a small satisfied grin from him. She maneuvers her arm from between their chests so she was hooked under his arms, gripping his shoulder from behind. Her forehead finds its place beside one of her hands, eyes closed. Comfortable. 

**_Don’t know what’s got into me. Why I feel this way. Can we dance, real slow. Can I hold you? Can I hold you close?_ **

   He slows to an almost complete stop, allowing the pair to just sway in place. Her stress level and heart rate have decreased. Body temperature has risen slightly. She’s at ease, and he has to say he is too. 

**_This is a feeling I’ve never felt but, it's all about us._ **

   She raises her head to face him and begins to softly sing along, just loud enough for him to hear. 

   “Do you hear that love, they’re playing our song?”

   He smiles and does the same, “Do you think we’re ready? Oh, I’m really feeling it.”

   “Do you hear that love? Do you hear that love?”

   “Do you hear that love, they’re playing our song.”

   The music starts to swell. Her smile widens. She moves both her arms and wraps them around his neck. His newly freed arm joins it’s partner around her waist.

   “Do you think we’re ready?” 

   She rolls her eyes, “Oh I’m really feeling it. Do you hear that love?”

   “Do you hear that love?”

   He rests his forehead on hers, eyes closed. Nothing in the world matters but her. Not the guests, not the staff, not the flowers, not the fire hazard of an atmosphere she’s surrounded them with. Just the warmth and feeling of her in his arms. 

   “Do you hear that love?” they sing in unison. 

   There’s a shift under him. He opens his eyes just quick enough to see her rise and push a kiss to his lips. He melts. He didn’t even know he was capable of it but that’s the best analogy he can think of. He’s hot and it’s difficult to maintain stability. It’s a perfect example of how weak she makes him. He doesn’t want it to end. He wants the feeling of complete surrender at his own will forever. He wants to chase her lips when she pulls away. 

   “I love you.” she states as if it’s the most obvious fact in the world. As if he wouldn’t cling to those words for dear life. As if they didn’t fuel him. 

   “I love you too.” He answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Okay. Tamara here. Self Preservation has been a wild as hell ride for me to write. 5 months and countless hours of research that's definitely put me on some watch lists. Out of the 30 or so things I've ever published online, I've never felt more connected to my readers than on this one. I want to thank everyone who's read, commented, kudos, interacted with this thing. I don't fully comprehend how I've gotten so much love from you all. The fic isn't completely over, there will still be stuff going up in the Director's Cut and you can always follow me on tumblr (@ flameroyalty97) and I will happily discuss/answer questions about the fic forever. Thank you again for reading and sticking with me. I love you all.


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